Il Ballerina Piccolo
by GeneticallyElvenGryffindor
Summary: Legolas Story...no romance, no slash, and no MarySues UPDATED! The End! A young ballerina finds herself questioning her reality. Why doesn't she look like the people she dances with? Why does that blond man say she's an elf?
1. Trovare Una Bambina

(AN: This is the first Lord of the Rings fanfiction I ever wrote. Most of it was written before my 8:30 AM Calculus class in the second semester of my freshman year of college. Please read and review!)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Shannon and Mitchell O'Connolly were your average, American couple. Both worked well paying jobs and were, basically, a happy, much in love couple.  
  
There was one thing missing in their lives-the couple had no children. Both had wanted a large family but, try as they might, they could not have a baby. Doctors could fin nothing physically wrong with either of them. It just seemed like they weren't fated to have one.  
  
That all changed one fine night in early June.  
  
Before heading off the bed, Shannon decided to take the garbage out.  
  
"No sense in chasing the sanitation man tomorrow morning. I have to be at work early, anyway," she mused, as she picked up a bulging black garbage bag.  
  
Calling for Lucky, the couple's mutt, Shannon opened a side door and took the garbage to the curb.  
  
As she made her way back to the side door, Shannon noticed Lucky had gone round to the front of the house.  
  
"Come on, Lucky, it's late. Let's go in!" Shannon called into the darkness.  
  
Her only reply was the dog's bark followed by what sounded like the cry of a newborn kitten.  
  
"Stupid dog probably cornered the neighbor's cat.again," Shannon mumbled, as she walked to the dog's approximate location.  
  
She found Lucky poised in front of the house, barking and growling at a wicker basket that had been placed on her stoop.  
  
"What did you find, boy?" Shannon asked the dog, moving him out of the way and peering into the basket.  
  
Shannon nearly fainted at the sight of what Lucky had found.  
  
In the basket was a baby!  
  
From what Shannon managed to discern, despite her initial shock, was that a healthy looking little baby had been left on her doorstep. The baby was wide awake but not crying. Instead, it seemed to be studying the night sky. The baby had fine blondish hair covering its scalp and clear bluish eyes. It was wrapped up in a homespun blanket. She could find no note or anything in or around the basket.  
  
Recovering from her shock, Shannon picked up the basket and brought it into the kitchen. She set it down on the table and began to call for her husband.  
  
"What's going on?" Mitchell grumbled, as he ambled down the stairs, "Why on earth are you yelling at this time of night?"  
  
He stopped talking when he saw the basket set on the table.  
  
"I.um..went to take out the garbage and I.well.found baby," Shannon stammered.  
  
Being the rational one, Mitchell said, "We have to call the police. What if this baby was kidnapped or something?"  
  
"It doesn't look neglected or anything," Shannon, quietly, said.  
  
Despite her overwhelming need to keep the baby, she agreed with her husband and called the police. She wanted to keep the baby but she didn't want to get arrested for kidnapped either.  
  
When the two officers arrived, they informed the couple that they were taking the baby to the hospital.  
  
"Is it possible for us to accompany you?" It doesn't feel right to leave him or her alone," Shannon asked.  
  
"You can but don't get too attached. We may find this kid's parents, yet," the officer, gruffly, replied.  
  
Throwing coats on over pajamas and replacing slippers with shoes, the couple followed the officers to the local hospital.  
  
Once there, the baby was give a thorough check-up in order to check for signs of disease, neglect, addiction, or abuse.  
  
The couple was told that they had found a perfectly healthy, day-or-so, old baby girl. She appeared to be totally healthy in each and every way. No physical or mental problems were detected and she was given all of her sots.  
  
Later that night, an officer found the couple.  
  
After the customary introductions, he said, "Look, no one's reported a baby missing and it looks like she wasn't even born in here or any neighboring county. In case you nice folks didn't know, this county has a policy that allows mothers with unwanted babies to leave their child on a doorstep with no legal repercussions. It's up to you two fine people to decide what you want to do with her."  
  
Without even a second thought, Shannon said, "We'd like to adopt her, if that is at all possible."  
  
The officer looked to Mitchell, who nodded in agreement.  
  
"Alright folks, I'll go find the on-call social worker," he said.  
  
Days later, Shannon and Mitchell brought home their adopted daughter-Emma. 


	2. Andiamo alla Scuola Ballante

(AN: Thanks to my two reviewers. I'm going to try to type more of the story, since it's already written, but I'm in college so time is always an issue.)  
  
Disclaimer: I still own nothing except a small handful of made up characters. Tolkien created the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just your average broke college student.  
  
"Get up, Emma," called Shannon, one Saturday morning in September, "you're going to be late for ballet class and you know how Spiro gets when people stroll in late."  
  
Getting no visible response, Shannon walked closer to her daughter's bed. She had all intentions of shaking the sleeping child.  
  
"I'm up, mom. I'm up," Emma said, as soon as Shannon reached her bed.  
  
Emma hugged Shannon and gave her the best eight AM, on a Saturday smile she could muster.  
  
"Get dressed, pixie, you don't want to be late," she ordered her daughter.  
  
"I know, mom. I'm getting dressed," Emma said.  
  
The child climbed out of bed and walked over to her dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, she pulled out a well worn black body suit and black tights. She, then, went to go get dressed.  
  
Shannon watched Emma go, a far away expression her face. Still hearing Emma call her "mom" and Mitchell "dad" shocked her. Nearly twelve years had passed since she had found the baby on her doorstep. All of those years, in Shannon's opinion, had been good ones. She had gotten to watch her adopted daughter grow and changed from a tentative baby to a happy pre-teen.  
  
There had been rough moments, like when the children in Emma's preschool made fun of her because she looked somewhat like an elf or a leprechaun or when a family friend let slip that Emma had been adopted.  
  
The adoption fact never really bothered Emma. She never, really, asked about her birth family. Not that Shannon and Mitchell could give her any information about them. According to records, Emma had not been born in any hospital or birthing center anywhere.  
  
Climbing out of her reverie, Shannon woke Mitchell and she, herself, got dressed.  
  
As she was putting her shoes on, she felt a tap on her shoulder.  
  
"Can you put my hair up?" asked Emma.  
  
Shannon had not heard her daughter enter the room.  
  
Startled, she replied, "Of course, pixie."  
  
She took several hair bands and a brush from Emma.  
  
It was easy to see what Emma couldn't put her own hair up--- it was quite long, past her rear end, and silver-white in color.  
  
Five minutes later, Shannon had put Emma's hair up in a complex series of braids and twists all wrapped up on the back of her head.  
  
"Ready?" Shannon asked.  
  
"Yeah," Emma replied, "I just need to get my ballet shoes and coat."  
  
The child darted back to her room to retrieve her missing necessities.  
  
"Morning, pixie," Mitchell called, as Emma and Shannon came downstairs.  
  
"Morning, dad," replied Emma, hugging her father.  
  
Breaking the embrace, the family headed out the front door and down to their car. Mitchell, who was driving, unlocked the doors and the two females entered the car. Soon they were off to the studio where Emma took dance lessons.  
  
"Emma, I don't understand why you dance here. These people are no good, cheating, money grubbing liars," Mitchell griped as he pulled up in front of the studio.  
  
"I know, dad, but there's no other studio that will take a kid like me," Emma explained.  
  
"Leave her alone, Mitch, this makes her happy," Shannon hissed to her husband, as she and Emma exited the car.  
  
Mitchell just shook his head and, with a wave, drove off to work.  
  
"Your father does have a point, pixie. These people are not exactly the most honest on the face of the earth" Shannon said as she and Emma made their way to the back door entrance of the studio.  
  
"I know that but no one wants a 12 year old with 10 years of experience. They'd put me back in baby classes," Emma explained.  
  
Shannon had to agree with Emma there. No other local studio had classes for such a young child with that much experience.  
  
Emma, on the other had, had to agree with her parents. Since she had become a member of the "company" classes, about four years ago she had been completely and utterly ignored. No one on the staff, who made up the rest of the class, wanted any part of the "strange" dancer with the long hair and odd ears.  
  
Emma knew they talked about her behind her back but she had learned to ignore it. She danced because it made her happy. There was just something about dancing they felt right to her.like she was suppose to be doing it. 


	3. La Scuola di Ballo

(AN: This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has been picked on or ignored for being different and for anyone who has danced, or is still dancing, at the dance studio I describe here.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Shannon and Emma entered the studio and were greeted by the mildly stupid secretary---Pat.  
  
"Good morning ladies," she called with feigned enthusiasm and a huge phony smile.  
  
"Hi Pat," Shannon, flatly, replied.  
  
Emma said nothing, allowing her mother to talk for her. Instead, she put her bag down on the chair closest to the stairs leading up to the classrooms. It was the same chair she had used everyday for all of the ten years she had been there. She exchanged her white sneakers and blue jeans for a pair of loose fitting black shorts and pink ballet slippers. Then she sat and watched the other members of her class trickle in.  
  
She had learned a very long time ago that, if you were very quiet, you could learn a lot of things. It also helped that Emma had always had exceptional hearing and eyesight.  
  
A little away from her chair was a small room. On the door was a sign that read "Do not enter---teacher's room." That was where the "staff" got changed and kept their things. The door was open and the "staff" members seemed all in a tizzy about something.  
  
"Figures no one would tell me. I'm always the last to know," Emma, ruefully, thought as she sat to observe the staff and try to puzzle out what was going on.  
  
There was Kim, the rather unintelligent red head who was the star of the studio and billed as the best dancer there. She was sitting at a small desk that was jammed into the room.  
  
Next to her sat Danielle, a short dumpy looking dancer who was slovenly dressed.  
  
Kim and Danielle seemed to be engaged in a conversation about Kim's boyfriend--- a married man whose daughter Kim taught acrobatics.  
  
Across from Kim and Danielle sat two other "staff" members.  
  
One was named Myra, a rail thin dancer with ratty hair. She looked like she had an eating disorder.  
  
The other was named Andrea, a dark haired dancer with an unusually large head.  
  
She and Myra were engaged in a conversation in Spanish.  
  
Turning away from the "teacher's room," Emma caught a glimpse of the sixth member of her class. Coming in last, as usual, was Laura, a gothic looking girl with piercing all over her face.  
  
Emma sighed and turned to her mother, who had just sat down next to her.  
  
"What did Pat want?" she asked.  
  
"Who knows," Shannon replied with a evil smirk, "She was going on and on about Michelle bringing in a visitor to watch the ballet class."  
  
"That would explain why they're all in such a tizzy. I'll bet they think this will be their big break," Emma suggested, pointing an elbow toward the "teacher's room."  
  
Shannon laughed as she tried to imagine the "staff" as a professional dance troupe. The image didn't seem to fit.  
  
"Don't mind them, pixie. I'm sure you'd show them all up," she whispered to Emma.  
  
"Sure," Emma said, "I bet the flock all over this guy and try to impress him. You know how they are."  
  
Shannon nodded with a knowing smile.  
  
"Besides, I don't want to be a professional dancer," Emma added.  
  
Moments later, Michelle, the fat pig like owner of the studio strode in. She was followed in by her bulldog like mother.  
  
"Good morning, girls," she called, in the fakest possible voice with the fakest possible smile plastered on her face.  
  
She strode right past Emma and Shannon without even a glance and went into the "teacher's room," slamming the door behind her. Her mother took the seat next to Pat at the desk.  
  
"Well that was rude," Shannon commented, as Michelle opened the door just a crack and invited Laura in.  
  
"So, do you think she noticed us?" Emma asked her mother.  
  
Shannon shook her head.  
  
"Just as I suspected. I wonder where Spiro is," Emma wondered.  
  
Spiro, the tall, Greek ballet and jazz instructor was the person in the entire studio who gave Emma the time of day. He was a bit of a perfectionist and came off as a very gruff and mean person. Emma, who took a private ballet lesson with him, knew he meant well.  
  
"Come on ladies. I'm not going to wait all day," called a male voice from the top of the stairs.  
  
"I guess Spiro's upstairs," Shannon commented, taking Emma's sweater, a purple zip-up hoodie, and kissing her on the cheek for luck.  
  
"Guess so. Bye Mom!" Emma called as she darted up the stairs.  
  
She didn't want to get into trouble with Spiro. When he was mad, he could get very vindictive.  
  
(AN: The people at the dance studio, save Emma and Shannon, are all based on actual people I dance with. Their personalities are exactly as I describe them and, yes, I used their real names. There's a line in the movie "The Knight's Tale" that says something to the effect of "I will eviscerate you in fiction." Well, it seems I have! En garde!) 


	4. La Riunione

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma darted up the 10 or so stairs that lead to the studio's classrooms. She'd been doing this for so long that she didn't really notice when she opened the door and stepped into the wood floored, mirror walled room.  
  
Nearest to the door stood Spiro.  
  
With no preamble, Spiro asked, "Where is the rest of your class?"  
  
"They're in the room with Miss Michelle, I think," Emma, quickly, replied.  
  
Any hesitation on her part would have driven Spiro further into his rage. As it was, he didn't look to be in a good mood at all.  
  
He cured under his breath and headed towards the phone that hung on the wall of the second classroom.  
  
He walked about half the distance before he turned and said, again with little preamble, "Lee, this is Emma. She's the baby of the class."  
  
Being the baby, or the youngest student in the class, was something Emma had gotten use to. With Spiro, it was merely a way to designate her from the rest of the students in his class. In the tap class she took with Michelle, it was derogatory statement, meant to hurt feelings.  
  
"Hello. My name's Emma," the little ballerina said cordially, with her eyes down toward her ballet slippers.  
  
Save Spiro, Emma never looked anyone in the studio in the eye. If she did, she knew that they were being their usual dishonest lying selves.  
  
"Well met, Emma. I am called Lee." The gentleman said, offering his hand to the ballerina.  
  
Emma lifted up her eyes and shook Lee's outstretched hand.  
  
Lee was a lot taller than she was but had similarly colored hair and eyes, and oddly shaped ears as she did.  
  
Emma tried to stop the look of shock that threatened to make its way across her face. Never in her life had she seen anyone who looked so like her, who shared such a frightening resemblance with her.  
  
She didn't have much time to dwell on this fact, though. There was the familiar sound of a group of people tromping their way up the stairs toward the class room. The rest of her class was on their way up.  
  
As soon as the door opened to reveal Kim standing there, Emma took off for her "spot" on the floor. Her "spot" was directly in front of the radiator on the far side of the second classroom. She liked that spot because it was the only warm area in the entire room during the winter months.  
  
"Spiro," squealed Michelle, in her highest pitched phony voice, "can I have the honor of introducing our girls to Lee?"  
  
Spiro gave a noncommittal shrug and mumbled, just loud enough for Emma; ears to pick up, "Our girls? Since when, you fat pig?"  
  
Emma, sitting across the room, stifled a giggle.  
  
"Lee," Michelle pompously announced, "there are the best dancers I can offer---Kim, Danielle, Myra, Andrea and Laura. As you can see, they are all in the best of shape and when you watch them dance, I'm confident you'll see just how gifted they really are."  
  
Lee gave the group a good once over, taking in Danielle's sloppy mode of dress and Myra's ratty appearance.  
  
"What about her?" he said.  
  
Michelle looked around the room and noticed Emma sitting in front of the radiator.  
  
"Oh.her. Between you and me, Lee, she's not all that good. We just put her in here because she's just to old for the baby classes. She's expendable, you know," Michelle whispered loud enough, though, for the other girls to hear.  
  
Lee nodded but gave Michelle a very puzzled expression.  
  
"Well, Spiro, I'll let you get started. I'm sure Lee would like to see our girls in action," Michelle announced, leaving the room.  
  
"Good riddance," Spiro said, flipping the door off, "get to the barre girls."  
  
Each girl took their spot on the four ballet barres that were fitted into the mirrors in the second room. Emma stayed the furthest back, preferring the barre nearest to her spot on the floor. 


	5. Verità

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Halfway through the ballet class, Lee was fighting to keep his focus. Watching this man walked up and down the space between the barres wasn't very interesting. Plus, Lee didn't really know all that much about ballet. It didn't exist where he was from. There was dancing, yes, but not this type.  
  
Lee wasn't a talent scout. He was scouting for something else, someone else. Lee wasn't even the man's real name.  
  
Underneath a cleverly contrived disguise, was an elf. Not just any elf but the crowned price of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.  
  
He had been sent, by his father the kind, to find a lost elf child.  
  
After much searching, it was discovered that the lost child lived in this area and danced in this studio.  
  
The problem for Legolas was to figure out which one of these girls was his lost elf.  
  
He had already narrowed down the field, so to speak, to two of the dancers.  
  
Danielle had been eliminated because her body shape was all wrong. Even living among the race of men, an elf would never grow to look like that.  
  
Myra had been eliminated for a similar reason. Elves were not that thin and ill looking.  
  
Laura was not the one he was looking for either. The way she looked frightened him.  
  
Andrea, well, her attitude and the size of her head forced him to eliminate her.  
  
He was suck between Kim and Emma. Both looked like they could have been elves.  
  
"Get in line, combination one," Spiro called.  
  
The girls lined up across the length of the room with Danielle nearest to Lee and Emma farthest away.  
  
Spiro turned the CD player on, the theme from the film Born on the Fourth of July playing, and stepped back as the girls began to dance.  
  
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Spiro asked Lee, after calling out a harsh comment about spotting to Myra.  
  
"I think I may have. After you are done, may I speak with Kim, the one with the red hair, and Emma, the baby as you call hr," the elf in disguise asked.  
  
Spiro nodded and went back to teaching his class, stopping the music and giving a long winded speech about the benefits of using the arms in a ballet.  
  
After repeating the combination four more times, Spiro stopped the music. Apparently, they had done well enough to merit his approval.  
  
"That's it! Get ready for modern," he called.  
  
Emma headed straight for the door, she didn't take modern, but a strong hand on her shoulder stopped her.  
  
"Lee wants to speak with you," Spiro informed Emma, semi-steering her towards Lee.  
  
Emma was in shock. She couldn't figure out why this guy wanted to talk to her. She didn't see herself as a good dancer even though many people told her how well she danced.  
  
Getting nervous, Emma began to take down her hair. Her mother had always said that she used her hair as a way to hide when she began to feel uncomfortable.  
  
"Just come downstairs when you're done," Spiro said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.  
  
So, who go the part?" Kim asked, batting her eyelashes and leaning on Lee's chair.  
  
Lee ignored Kim's question. He, instead, was watching Emma take her long hair down.  
  
"Did you hear me? Who got the part?" Kim asked, more forcefully.  
  
"Emma," whispered the elf in disguise, slightly taken aback.  
  
With her hair completely down, Emma looked like someone the elf knew. It was then he noticed Emma's ears, for the stuck out of her hair just a bit, and her familiar body structure. With a final mental nod, he decided he had found his lost elf.  
  
"What do you mean Emma? How did that thing get the part?" Kim ranted, her voice soaked with anger.  
  
"She's what I'm looking for," he, simply, replied.  
  
The red headed dancer stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Emma and Lee alone.  
  
"I'm flattered sir, but I don't want to dance professionally," Emma said, turning towards the door.  
  
"I'm not a dance instructor, child. I am an elf, just like you. I was sent by my father to bring you home," Lee announced,  
  
Not really knowing what to do, Emma bolted. She ran down the stairs, leaving the elf standing there, pondering what he had done wrong.  
  
(AN: First off, please read and review. Good, bad, indifferent I don't really care! Second, again this chapter was aimed at eviscerating the people I dance with. I want to lay bare all their faults because they're a cruel heartless group of people who do not care about the welfare of anyone else but themselves.) 


	6. Pensare

An: Thanks to all my reviewers! I really do appreciate all the feedback! It's so nice to see that people are actually reading my story and taking the time out to review it!  
  
TwinkieFreak: If I told you who she reminded him of, I kind of spoil it. Don't worry though, I'll get to that part soon enough. Thanks for the review!  
  
Darth Xena: Thanks for the correction. Italian is my second language (I took three years of it in high school) and the translator program I used must not have picked up on the genders.  
  
kurleyhawk2: Thanks! The people I dance with (except for Spiro who's really very cool) are the worst type of people in the world. Alas, they're my inspiration for the story.  
  
Lomiothiel: Thanks for the two reviews! I can assure you what you fear will not come to pass. Thanks for the criticism about the endings. I'm afraid I've never been good with writing them but I'll try to work on it!  
  
Tha: Thanks! A sort of odd side note, after I finished writing this story, my ballet class actually used music from Lord of the Rings in our "show" dance.  
  
PixiePea000: GOLLUM!   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma quickly exchanged her slippers and shorts for sneakers and blue jeans and threw her light jacket on. She ran out of the studio in a blur of sliver-white hair.  
  
"What's wrong, pixie?" Shannon asked, catching her daughter as she tried to run from the studio.  
  
Emma threw herself into her mother's arms.  
  
"The guy Miss Michelle brought in chose me," she sobbed.  
  
"Congratulations, pixie," Shannon said happily.  
  
The she noticed, Emma wasn't happy about her choosing.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked the child.  
  
"He's crazy. He told me we were elves and that he was going to take me home with him," she sobbed.  
  
Shannon hugged Emma and assured her that she was safe and no one, not even a small army of mad elves, was going to take her away.  
  
"Do you want me to go back and talk to Michelle?" Shannon offered.  
  
Shannon hated, with a passion, the pig-like owner of the studio. She only put up with her because dancing made Emma very happy.  
  
"Not today. Can we just go home?" Emma asked.  
  
She'd had enough of that dance studio for one day.  
  
Shannon took Emma's hand and the two began to walk home.  
  
"I'm going to call her before your tap class on Tuesday, no matter what?" Shannon told her.  
  
Emma spent the rest of the day badly shaken and dreading her Tuesday night tap and jazz classes.  
  
Though his words frightened her, something about them had set off bells in Emma's mind.  
  
She had always been different from the other kids her age, both physically and mentally.  
  
Aside from the slightly pointed ears and very long hair, Emma had always been thinner, swifter, and lighter than most kids her age.  
  
Her eyesight and hearing were extremely acute, sensitive enough to pick up even the smallest sounds through the thickest of walls.  
  
The mental difference between her and her peers was even more striking.  
  
While her peers were interested in getting dates and the latest crazes in fashion and make up, Emma was more interested in the arts.  
  
She loved to dance and to read fantasy literature. She loved languages and loved to write stories. She loved to draw and to color.  
  
Add to that the fact she never got sick- she was the only kid in her kindergarten NOT to get chicken pox- and was, technically, not born anywhere that anyone could puzzle out.  
  
Emma shook the thoughts out of her head. They weren't true, they could never be true.  
  
"I'm just as normal as the next kid. As normal as anyone can be with the perfect family," she decided with finality in her mental voice.  
  
(AN: Please review! I thrive on them!) 


	7. La Riunione Ancora

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
That Tuesday, Emma and her mother returned to the studio.  
  
Shannon had called earlier that day and explained what had happened on Saturday to both Michelle and Michelle's mother, Katherine. Of course, Shannon had been given a complete brush off and was promised that it would never, ever happen again.  
  
"Look, pixie, if that guy is here and he say something to you or tries to do something, tell them you want to call home," Shannon told Emma before running off to the near by drug store to buy Emma water and Skittles to snack on between tap and jazz.  
  
"I will mom," Emma said, hugging her mother.  
  
She, then, sat on the floor between to chairs and put her CD player on.  
  
After nearly fifteen minutes of waiting, the "staff" dancers began to troop upstairs. This class included everyone from the Saturday morning ballet class along with two other dancers.  
  
One was a tall adult who had to be the most incompetent dancer ever to grace a stage. She was forgetful and, basically, a hazard to all the dancers around her. Her name was Fran.  
  
The other was a taller, chunkier dancer with black hair. She would, sometimes, talk to Emma. Her name was Rosemarie but everyone called her Rosie.  
  
Emma watched the class go upstairs and, after putting her CD player away, followed her class up the stairs.  
  
About halfway up the steps, she heard Kim squeal in the highest voice she's ever heard, "Oh Lee! I'm so happy to see you! Are you here for another look?"  
  
She, then, heard the joyous squeals of the rest of her class.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded. She wasn't really sure if she wanted to go up there and take the class tonight. She was fighting the urge to go downstairs and have Katherine call her mother.  
  
"Snap out of it," she admonished herself, "Just go up there and dance. Don't mind anyone."  
  
She climbed the rest of the stairs and entered the classroom. Seeing the swamped Lee, she took off for her "spot" on the floor.  
  
One Emma had come up stairs, Lee told the other girls to listen to Michelle and go stretch.  
  
He turned his elven eyes toward Emma. He was glad to see she had had come back. He was afraid that she had been scared off so badly that she was not planning on returning to the studio.  
  
With a few days to think about why she had bolted, he came to understand that her reaction was not one borne of horror and disgust but one borne of fear and shock. She was being asked to question everything she had come to know, a great undertaking for someone so young.  
  
His mission tonight was to make contact with this child and convince her not to be afraid.  
  
The tap class had gone like most other taps classes, except for the fact Michelle and her cronies had been colder than usual to Emma.  
  
The group had worked for the entire hour and a half class on the end on their performance number; "We're in the Money" from the play 42nd Street.  
  
After the class had ended, Emma went downstairs and brought up her dance bag, a very larger thing with images of Degas's ballerina paintings on its sides.  
  
She sat on the floor very close to the door downstairs, another one of her favorite spots because of its closeness to the exit, and changed her shoes. She went from golden, 2 and ½ inch tap heels to flat black jazz shoes that looked remarkably like sneakers.  
  
She put her CD player back on, blocking out the rest of the people she danced with.  
  
Then she tore into the large bag of Skittles her mother had bought her and, ever so carefully, selected only the red ones. She placed a few of the red Skittles in the bottle of water her mother had bought her. She closed the bottle and began to shake it. The water turned an odd red color. She took a sip and, deciding that it was up to par, ate the rest of the red Skittles. She placed the rest of the package of Skittles back into her dance bag.  
  
Seeing that his quarry was occupied, Lee moved to talk to Emma.  
  
(AN: Again, this chapter was for the people I dance with. I've gotten them again! By the way, red Skittle water is quite good as long as you put only a few Skittles in) 


	8. Parlare

AN: I greatly appreciate the feedback everybody! I thrive on reviews and it's always a surprise when I get them. By the way, I'm glad to see everyone's going to try red Skittle water!  
  
Oracle: Thanks! I'll try to keep typing this out as fast as I can.  
  
TwinkieFreak: It will be, kind of and not in the way you're thinking. Its set post Return of the King (which comes into play later on). I'll try to make the chapters longer.  
  
Lomiothiel: Thanks for the two reviews! How she gets left will be revealed later. I'll try to tie up all those ends by the end. Sorry about the cliffhanger. It just seemed like a good place to leave off. I do agree with you on that I'd be really happy if I found out I was an elf.  
  
PixiePea000: Spiro will eat anyone's candy, no matter the type. You'll have to wait on that character, though. Oh by the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Lee took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was prepared for whatever response this child was going to give him.  
  
He tapped her on her shoulder, because her back was to him.  
  
She turned around and, seeing who had touched her, made to run for the door.  
  
"Excuse me," Lee requested, before she could run, "may I talk to you?"  
  
Emma removed her headphones and looked at Lee, half curious, half afraid. She hung her ear phones around her neck.  
  
"Please, I will not hurt you. All I want to do is talk," Lee added, trying to calm the skittish child.  
  
He sounded so sincere that Emma felt she could, at least, listen to what he had to say. She sat back down on the floor, near her dance bag.  
  
Lee's sensitive ears picked up on the music Emma was listening to. It was instrumental in nature, not like the other types of music he had heard during the dance lessons he observed.  
  
"What are you listening to?" he asked the child.  
  
"It's from this movie called Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. We're dancing to it in ballet," Emma answered.  
  
Then she added, "That reminds me.."  
  
She pulled a large brown envelope out of her bag, checking to be sure that it wasn't bent or folded in any way.  
  
"What is that?" the elf-disguised-as-a-dancer asked.  
  
"Pictures," Emma replied, "Spiro's going to assign us our characters even though we're supposed to have jazz." Emma placed the envelope on top of her dance bag, balancing it with the utmost care. She knew Spiro would be a little annoyed if the pictures were not in perfect condition. Then again, he got annoyed when anything, from the state of someone's pointe shoes to the combination he taught, was not perfect.  
  
The two were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Legolas was busy puzzling out where he had heard the title Emma was referring to. It dawned on him that, to the people in this world that title created images of fantasy, of a world that did not exist. To him, of course, that title referred to a quest he and eight others had undertaken.  
  
"What character would you like to be given the role of?" he asked, suddenly.  
  
"I'd like to have a lead role-maybe like Frodo or something-but I probably won't. Miss Michelle would never let Spiro give me a good part. I think I know the part they are going to give me," Emma answered.  
  
"Which part is that?" Lee questioned.  
  
Emma sighed and answered, "I'm going to get the role of this elf named Legolas."  
  
"Is that a bad thing? Was he not a main character?" the real Legolas asked.  
  
"He was but he's not going to be the focus character. That part will go to either Kim or Andrea. About my part though, it's a yes and no sort of thing. It's going to be a really fun part to play because of all the stunts I can do in character. It's not a good thing because I know I'm being given this part out of spite. Miss Michelle and the others think that it'll be funny to, I guess, embarrass me like this," Emma explained.  
  
"For what my comment is worth, I think you would make a lovely elf," Lee commented, hoping he could use this as an opening to break the truth to Emma.  
  
Emma blushed and mumbled her thanks.  
  
"Do you believe in elves, Emma?" the actual elf asked.  
  
Emma gave Lee an odd look but answered, "I guess. It's a really big universe and we're really only a tiny part of it."  
  
Before he could ask any other questions, there was a loud stiff knock at the upstairs door.  
  
"That would be Spiro," Emma said.  
  
Kim, who had been coming up the stairs, streaked past Lee and Emma.  
  
She raced to the door and opened it.  
  
Spiro, curtly, thanked Kim and then asked, "Is everyone here?"  
  
"Yeah, everyone's here. Laura even stayed to get her part," she said out loud.  
  
In an undertone, which both Emma and Lee heard though they were not meant to, "Lee's back to have another look at the class. He's been talking to Lucky Charms over there the entire break."  
  
Spiro shook his head and told Kim to call the rest of the class. He had some business to attend to first. 


	9. I Costumi

AN: Again, I thank my reviewers! I'm happy to see that people are actually reading and reviewing my story. Like I said before, I'm genuinely surprised when I see that people are reviewing my story. I never though anyone would.  
  
kurleyhawk2: I'll try my darndest but college tends to get in the way.  
  
PixiePea000: Thanks! I'll get around to typing that part out. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Lomiothiel: As always, I appreciate you're review! I didn't even realize I'd written that partial diss in until you pointed it out. I guess that's what I get for updating at like 2:30 AM. I'm glad you liked it though!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Spiro strode over to where Lee and Emma sat talking. Upon his entrance, Emma had removed her headphones entirely and placed them back into her dance bag. Her mother had taught her it was rude to listen to her CD player when someone in authority was around. At the dance studio, she figured that Spiro was about the only one she owed that respect too.  
  
"Good to see you again, Lee. What happened? I thought you'd found exactly what you wanted," Spiro said, shaking the elf-posing-as-a-human's had and giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.  
  
The elf returned the handshake.  
  
"I just want to be sure that I am making the correct decision," he lied.  
  
"By the way," the elf said, "I think my friend here has something for you."  
  
He gestured to Emma, trying to gauge her response to his use of the phrase "my friend." She looked unfazed, as she handed Spiro the envelope.  
  
I hope that's what you're looking for," she said quietly, "I was able to get two views of each character."  
  
Spiro opened the clasp on the envelope and flipped, idly, through its contents.  
  
"Yeah, this is what I wanted. Thanks," he, curtly, said.  
  
He took the pictures and set them one by one on the radiator cover.  
  
While he did this, the rest of the class, save Fran and Rosemarie who had gone to their respective homes, came back up stairs.  
  
"Come here," Spiro commanded in his booming, annoyed-sounding voice.  
  
The entire class gathered around Spiro, sitting in a tight huddle on the floor. Emma stayed toward the back of the group, acting as if the other dancers had some horrid disease she was afraid of catching.  
  
"Wad's up, Spiro?" Andrea asked, in an attempt to sound like a thug.  
  
First, I have to leave early so we're going to have to work very hard. Second, I'm going to assign each of you a part for the ballet. We start rehearsing for that bright and early, 8:30 AM, Saturday," he quickly said.  
  
The class started talking among themselves about how unfair the time of the ballet class was. Emma listened and smiled a bit. It was the same story every year. They'd complain about the time, hem and haw all they wanted, but no one had the guts to ask about changing it. Besides, it wasn't as if the class ever started on time, anyway. At the earliest, the last of the "staff" strolled upstairs at 9:00 AM.  
  
Spiro passed out the pictures Emma had given him, along with a picture of the costume they were going to wear. According to Spiro, and to a certain degree Miss Michelle, the other picture was to act as a comparison source and help to decide what other costume parts they needed to order, and overcharge, for.  
  
"Spiro, what is this thing?" asked Danielle, holding her picture at an odd angle as if that would give her an answer.  
  
"Yeah Spiro, none of us are dorks like some people here. Us normal people don't know what these freaky things are," Kim added, making the rest of the "staff" laugh.  
  
"They're characters from the movie Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. The movies as well as the books," Spiro explained.  
  
"Wait..wait..wait.. those movies were based on books?" Andrea asked.  
  
Spiro launched into a bit of an explanation about the books while Emma just shook her head. They had gone through this same speech back when Spiro had told them what they would be doing for their ballet. It had surprised her, then, that they didn't know the movies were based on books. She thought everyone knew that fact.  
  
"Does anyone actually know the name of the character which they will be playing?" Spiro, his annoyance level someplace higher than anyone could understand, asked.  
  
Emma meekly raised her hand and offered, "I know who my character is."  
  
"Enlighten us," Laura snapped.  
  
"I'm dressing as an elf named Legolas," she replied.  
  
A bit of muttering ran through the rest of the class, as if confirming Kim's earlier accusation about the nature of the people who knew who their characters were.  
  
Spiro, much to Emma's surprise, said, "Thank you. As for the rest of you, Kim is going to dress as Strider/Aragorn a sort of wanderer/warrior type. Andrea, you are going to be Frodo the Hobbit who carries the ring and Danielle will be your man servant Sam. Laura, Myra you will be playing Merry and Pippin, respectively. They are also Hobbits. The remaining characters will be played by older members of the Junior Ballet workshop."  
  
"Spiro, didn't you notice all these characters are guys. I don't want to be a guy," whined Myra, looking at her picture with an expression of utmost disgust.  
  
"Me neither. Can I have Emma's part? At least he looks like a she," Danielle said, viciously.  
  
Lee, of course, was offended by that remark.  
  
"I do not look like a girl," he thought.  
  
"It will work out. You're intelligent women, I'm sure you'll figure out what to do. Now does anyone need anything for their costumes?" Spiro said a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Just then, Michelle came barging up the stairs. Her arrival being heralded by a sound similar to a heard of rushing cows.  
  
"Oh you told them already," she said with feigned disappointment, "are there any problems with the costumes?"  
  
After addressing the concern if her staff and Laura, taking careful notes on a sheet of yellow paper, she came to Emma.  
  
Emma had been intensely studying her two pictures, trying to find the faults she knew were there. She had only located one, much to her delight and surprise.  
  
"Do you have a problem?" the pig like owner asked.  
  
"Just one. This costume lacks these arm band thingies the actual character has on in the picture," Emma explained.  
  
"Yes I know but you may have to do without that. I just can't find a company that sells those," Michelle said, failing to hide her glee.  
  
Emma knew, as well as Michelle did that without that small detail, the arms of her costume would look grossly unfinished. She figured Michelle was just trying to cheat her and make sure she didn't look as good as the chosen few she liked did.  
  
"If I may interrupt, Michelle," Lee said, walking over to where Emma and the pig like owner stood.  
  
"But of course, Lee, an expert's opinion is always welcome here in our little studio," she gushed.  
  
"I may be able to assist Emma's costume problem. My company, so to speak, can get something very similar to what Emma requires. I can easily procure them for her and bring them here," he replied, giving the child a small smile.  
  
"It's really not necessary, especially not for someone like her," Michelle whispered.  
  
"I insist. Think of it as an act of friendship from my company. You would not be so rude as to decline such an act," he, diplomatically, said.  
  
Both Emma and Lee could see that Michelle was torn. She didn't want to refuse someone she thought was the owner of a major dance company but she didn't want to help Emma's cause either.  
  
"Alright then" she finally said.  
  
"It's is really no problem," Legolas said.  
  
Before Emma could thank Lee, Spiro called for them to start dancing.  
  
He put on the song "Smooth Criminal, "the Alien Ant Farm version, and ordered them to do the highly complex combination he taught them.  
  
As she danced, Emma reminded herself to thank Lee at the first opportunity she had.  
  
"Maybe he's not all that big of a threat," she thought frowning as she corrected her arms while doing a side kick into a back attitude.  
  
"I guess I just over reacted," she, mentally, added as she fell into a split and rolled over onto her side. 


	10. La Rivelazione

AN: To all my reviewers, a great big thanks! All of you are helping me keep up the nerve to post this story.  
  
HathorCol: I'm glad you like (or dislike, which might be a good thing in this case) the way I created my dancers. Trust me; these dancers are like this is real life. I'll also try to incorporate your suggestion. Thanks!  
  
Lomiothiel: As always, thanks! Her parents' reactions will be brought into the story soon. Her mother's reaction will be very different from her father's, though.  
  
Kat: I'll try to update as fast as I can. School gets in the way a bit sometimes.  
  
PixiePea000: It's the truth, she does act like that! The truth will get out soon enough. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Arwen4: Thanks for both the review and the complement! I'm glad you like my idea.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
"I believe... The truth is rock....I believe visitors....the truth is out there!" (The X-Files: The Truth and the Light)  
  
Class ended early, 9:10 PM instead of the usual 9:30 PM. Emma looked up at the clock hanging on the wall and sighed. She knew she had a very long wait ahead of her because the people at the studio would not allow her to use the phone to call her parents.  
  
She changed slowly, exchanging her jazz shoes for normal sneakers and pulling a t-shirt and green fleece over her body suit. She, then, sat down and prepare to wait out the twenty, or so minutes, by herself.  
  
"So, Emma, have you ever read Lord of the Rings?" Lee asked, coming over to where Emma sat and sitting down next to her.  
  
Not hearing his approach on a wooden floor that usually creaked, Emma jumped a bit at the sound of his voice.  
  
"Actually I have, once or twice. Before I forget, thanks for the costume part. I kind of knew Miss Michelle wouldn't have gotten them for me," Emma replied.  
  
"It was my pleasure," Lee said, "If I may ask, what was your favorite part in the book?"  
  
He hoped that, by exploiting the fact she had read and liked the books, he would be able to break the truth to her.  
  
"Personally, I liked all the parts that involved the elves. Tolkien's elves are-I don't know- some of the best written fictional creatures I've ever read. That's why I'm happy with the part Spiro gave me," Emma replied, trying to sound happy but not, totally, accomplishing it.  
  
Lee smiled inwardly. Her answer was the best one she could have ever given and, he felt, could be an important key in getting Emma to accept the truth.  
  
"You do not sound truly happy, Emma. Why is that?" he asked her.  
  
"Like I said earlier, they gave me this part out of spite. They don't like me here because I'm different-I don't look like them- and I don't bow down to Miss Michelle's every order. Behind my back they make fun of me and talk about me. They call me names, too, like "Lucky Charms" and "that elf looking thing." They gave me this part because they think it's funny to have me play an elf since they think I look so much like one," Emma explained in a hurried whisper.  
  
Lee just shook his head sadly. No one deserved to be talked about and treated in such a manner.  
  
He, then, noticed that Emma had taken her hair down from its complex system of twists and braids. It fell like a sliver-white waterfall down her back.  
  
"There are two things I'm really looking forward to about playing this part," Emma stated, wrapping hair ties around her wrist.  
  
"What are those two things?" Lee asked, curiously.  
  
"Well, first I don't have to wear a wig like everyone else. I have to wear one for tap though and it's not fun. Second, I get to dance with my hair down. I never ever get to dance with my hair down," Emma said, with a smile.  
  
"Emma, what do you know about mirrors?" Lee asked, suddenly.  
  
Emma looked confused by the sudden and unexpected change of topics.  
  
"They're used to show a reflection," she answered.  
  
"That I know," Lee said, "do you know their history in magic?"  
  
"A little. I know that for a long time they were associated with the occult and things like that but what does this have to do with anything," Emma replied.  
  
"Stand up," Lee ordered, "and face the mirror."  
  
He got up from the floor and expected the dancer to do the same.  
  
After a moments thought, Emma pushed aside her dance bag and coat and followed suit.  
  
"Um, Lee, what are we looking at?" she asked, seeing only their own reflections in the mirror.  
  
"The truth, Emma, the truth. What I told you last time I saw you was the truth. I am an elf, just as you are. My father has instructed me to bring you back home to Middle Earth, where you belong," Legolas, no longer the false dancer Lee, told Emma.  
  
Emma wanted to run, wanted to get away and call for help. Instead she stood, transfixed by the swirling colors that had appeared in the mirror before her.  
  
"Mirrors can show us what we want to see, Emma," the elf continued, "they show us who we want to be. Sometimes, when we least expect it, they show us the truth---the truth of who and what we really are."  
  
The swirling colors had gone. The mirror was still for the briefest of moments. Then two images appeared on its smooth face.  
  
Gone were the images of a dancer dressed in a bright green fleece, black dance pants, and black sneaker and of a man dressed in a stuffy looking suit.  
  
Instead, they had been replaced by two images. Before Emma stood a girl who looked exactly like her, a reflection of her features, but in a different manner of dress. She wore a long dress in a deep shade of green. On her head sat some type of band of braided silver. Glancing over, the reflection before Lee was that of her character from the ballet.  
  
Realization swept over Emma like a wave over the beach. Yes she was looking at herself, everything from the way the eyes looked to the way the image held itself was her own, but it wasn't her as she was now. She had a feeling this was what she was suppose to look like.  
  
The images faded fast, leaving Emma staring confused at her own reflection.  
  
"How.how did you do that?" she asked, mostly still in shock.  
  
"A trick someone I know showed me. Do you believe me now?" Legolas said, deliberately avoiding the first part of the question.  
  
"I'm not sure," Emma said, sitting back down and pulling her coat into her lap, "what if you used a projector or something?"  
  
Legolas sighed and silently mused, "Al least she did not run away this time."  
  
After sitting in an uncomfortable silence for a handful of minutes, Emma asked, "If I am an elf, then why wait until now to come and find me?"  
  
Legolas shrugged something he had seen the people in the studio do when they were not sure they knew a step or where to stand.  
  
"I wish I could answer that, Emma, but I cannon. I can only tell you that you belong with us in Middle Earth," he answered.  
  
All of her past, as well as a good chunk of her present, seemed to fall into a kind of sharp understanding. The type of understanding one faces when he or she is shown the truth and just has to reach out his or her hand to accept it.  
  
"Are we related?" Emma asked, thinking about her initial shock when she had first seen him, "Some how I think we should be, seeing as how I'm an orphan and all. My parents were never able to find any information about my birth family."  
  
Legolas looked at Emma very carefully. They shared many features, from hair and eye color to the slope of the ear.  
  
"I do not think so," he, slowly, replied, "my mother passed when I was just a baby. You are only a child yourself."  
  
Emma looked crestfallen. She was hoping that, somehow, she had found a link to her own birth family.  
  
"I think I believe you but I have a family here. I don't want to leave them," Emma confided.  
  
That fact, the fact this child had a family who cared for her and her for them, hadn't crossed Legolas's mind.  
  
"I was only sent here to retrieve you. I do not know what to do about your family. Are you willing to come with me?" he asked again.  
  
Emma shook her head and said, "I can't. I have responsibilities here. As awful as they treat me, I have a responsibility to the people here. I just can't walk out of their dances. I can't leave without telling my parents, anyway. They'd worry about me."  
  
"I understand," Legolas admitted, "I will continue to check on you, though. We will go when you are ready."  
  
Emma nodded and noticed the time on the clock. It read 9:31 PM---time for her to go.  
  
"Before I leave, I have to know---Lee isn't your real name, right?" she asked, as she put her coat on.  
  
Legolas laughed and replied, "Very observant, Emma. My proper name is Legolas and I hail from Mirkwood. I do believe that you already knew that though. My image in the mirror looked very much like that picture you brought to Spiro."  
  
Emma nodded her previous knowing and said, "I'm Emma O'Connolly. I guess I'll be seeing you."  
  
With a wave, she ran out to her father's waiting car. Inside she felt as if a weight had been lifted. She knew who and what she was now. All she had to do was break that news to her parents. 


	11. I Genitori

AN: Wow! I didn't think anyone was going to review this when I put it up! You reviewers rock! By the way, I found out from a friend today that ballet is the number 2 ranked my physical sport. The number 1 ranked sport: football.  
  
a fan of LotR and dance: Thanks! I'm surprised to see so many ballet fans on this site. I'm glad you liked my idea!  
  
ldy imladris: I'll try to update as quickly as possible and thank you for the compliment.  
  
PixiePea000: Um, eventually he'll tell them but they're not quite ready to know. Slow and steady wins the race. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Lomiothiel: I know what you mean. My mom and I don't tell my dad the prices of my dance costumes and shoes anymore. He gets kinda upset about them. I'm sorry to hear about your hockey thing.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma went home, sitting with her father in silence. She, usually, talked about what had gone one during her lessons but not tonight.  
  
"Rough class, Emma?" her father asked.  
  
"Not really, dad," she replied simply.  
  
"Then why are you being so quiet?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm just thinking, that's all," Emma answered.  
  
Mitchell nodded and continued to drive in silence.  
  
As soon as they got home, Emma ran to her room. She changed into her purple pajamas and went back down stairs.  
  
Her parents were sitting in the living room watching TV. They looked so relaxed, so at ease that Emma figured that this was probably the best time to talk to them.  
  
"Mom, dad, can I talk to you for a bit?" she asked.  
  
"Of course, pixie," Shannon said, "Mitchell said you were very quiet on the way home from dancing. Is something wrong?"  
  
"I'm not really sure," Emma replied.  
  
She launched into the story of what had happened and what she had learned at the studio earlier that day. She explained everything, from the images the elf created in the mirror to what he had said to her.  
  
"It was probably just a trick those idiots at the studio thought up. You don't believe that trash, Emma," Mitchell said, sounding slightly angry.  
  
"But, dad, he wasn't from this studio so Miss Michelle and the rest of them couldn't have made up the story and told it to him o he could play along," Emma countered.  
  
"Sure they didn't. You can't trust people like them. There are no such things as elves. You're as normal as the next kid," Mitchell retorted.  
  
"But dad." began Emma.  
  
"No buts, Emma, I thought you were smarter than that. I told you, Shannon, she shouldn't have gone back there but you insisted she go. See what kinds of mad ideas they put into her head," Mitchell ranted, turning on his wife.  
  
"Mitch, please, you're upsetting Emma," Shannon pleaded as she watched tears form in her daughter's eyes.  
  
"And those people upset me," Mitchell yelled as he walked out of the room, slamming the door to his office.  
  
Emma, meanwhile, ran up to her bedroom, leaving Shannon standing in the middle of the living room.  
  
"Why does this always happen?" she moaned.  
  
"Pixie, you know the difference between fact and fiction, right?" Shannon asked.  
  
She had managed to calm Emma down and was in the process of tucking her into bed. Shannon realized Emma was, probably, far too old to still be tucked in but she got a measure of mental comfort from it. She knew that Emma was safe in bed when she tucked her in for the night.  
  
"Of course I do, mom. Do you think I'm crazy, too? Dad thinks I'm crazy," Emma replied.  
  
"I don't think you're crazy and your father doesn't either. It just upsets him that those people at the studio take advantage of you like that. He only wants you to be alright," Shannon answered.  
  
"What's wrong then?" Emma asked her mother.  
  
"It's just that I don't want you to get hurt. That's the last thing I want to see," Shannon answered.  
  
"But believing in something like this isn't going to hurt. What if it's true?" Emma said, in a child-like voice.  
  
"What if it's not?" her mother countered.  
  
Emma's story had sparked memories of her own. Not memories, per say, more like dreams. For the past few days, ever since the first incident at the studio, she had been having odd, vision-like dreams. They seemed less like normal dreams, more like her mind trying to force her to recall something, something long since forgotten and buried in the recesses of her mind. More often than not, there were elves in her dream-visions. From what she could recall and all of that was very foggy, the elves in her dream-visions looked like the elf Emma had described to her.  
  
"I understand totally, mom, but what if it's true. Then it would explain a lot of things. Maybe, then I could meet my real family. I just want to see what they're like, you know, just to see what they look like and how they act," Emma told Shannon, her voice full of hope.  
  
Shannon sighed and ruffled Emma's hair.  
  
"Get to sleeping, pixie, it's late and you have school and gymnastics tomorrow," Shannon said, as she got up and began to walk out of the room.  
  
"Good night mom! You know I love you," Emma called, snuggling into her bed.  
  
"I love you too, pixie," Shannon called back.  
  
She turned of the lights and shut the door, leaving it open a tiny crack just in case Emma needing something during the night. It was a habit she had started back when Emma was just a baby.  
  
"My daughter, an elf," she thought with a small mental laugh.  
  
The idea did make some sort of sense, in an odd sort of way. The part about Lord of the Rings made, at the same time, both the least and most sense given the situation.  
  
Shannon shrugged and walked halfway down the stairs. The sound of clicking keys and Celtic music indicated that Mitchell was "blowing of steam" by playing cards on the internet.  
  
Shannon turned and headed back toward her own bedroom.  
  
Before she drifted off to sleep, she thought, "Elves aren't real, are they?"  
  
(AN: Shannon is kind of, sort of based on my own mother. She's also dedicated to my mom---the only person in the world crazy enough to wait on line for baseball tickets, wrestling tickets, copies of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, watch the two Lord of the Rings movies an ungodly number of times [even if she really isn't the biggest of fans], and do all sorts of other crazy things with me and/or my sister.) 


	12. Dare Un Regalo

AN: I can't believe the reviews I keep getting. You guys are the best and I'm glad you all like my little story.  
  
a fan of LotR and dance (again): Thanks! You'll have to wait and see what her parents do. Her mother still has an important role to play.  
  
Lomiothiel: As always, thanks for your review! You'll see what they do in the coming chapters. There may even be a bit of a surprise in store for Emma's mom.  
  
PixiePea000: You try typing at 2:30AM! I'm glad you liked the fact my mom showed up. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Bean02: Many thanks from this broke college student. I'm happy to see so many people liked my dancers. They're really like that in person. Thanks for the vote of confidence in my idea.  
  
kurleyhawk2: I will try. I will try.  
  
Elleiadrieal: I'll try to keep posting, I really will. I'm really, really, really glad you like my little story.  
  
TwinkieFreak: Its set post Return of the King, which will come into play a bit later on. On your idea, Legolas and Emma are the main characters but they'll be no romance. She's a whole lot younger than he is.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The elf did not return to the dance studio the following Saturday, nor did he show up the Tuesday after that. Emma had not seen hide or hair of the elf for many months. She became aware, however, of something watching her. A something that she would only catch a glimpse of out of the corner of her eye. She began to assume that this fleeting thing was Legolas but she had no proof to back that up.  
  
One Saturday, towards the end of winter, costumes arrived. Emma, along with the rest of her ballet class, sat on the floor as Spiro and Kim passed out the incredibly small plastic bags that contained their costumes.  
  
Just after Emma received her incredulously tiny bag from Kim, the door flew open. Since she was sitting behind the door, she was nearly crushed.  
  
"You shouldn't sit there, kid. You might get hurt," Michelle said, as she strode into the room.  
  
Behind her was Legolas, who looked totally and utterly bored.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt you Spiro, but we just couldn't wait," she gushed to the dance master.  
  
Spiro gave Michelle a dirty look and went back to handing out bags of wigs.  
  
Meanwhile, Legolas scanned the room searching for the other elf. He found her sitting directly behind him.  
  
"Well met," he said, adding a phrase in a melodic sounding language.  
  
"Um..hi," Emma responded, perplexed by the rest of the words he had said.  
  
"Have they all received their costumes?" the piggy owner of the studio asked.  
  
Spiro gave a scathing glance around the room and replied, in an annoyed voice, "Looks that way."  
  
"Well, let's leave them to their changing then," she said, taking one of Spiro's arms in her fat hand and one of Legolas's arms in her other fat hand.  
  
She started dragging them toward the other side off the room so she could close the divider and let the dancers change in relative privacy.  
  
Legolas broke her grasp with a sharp twist of his own arm.  
  
"May I have a moment to speak with Emma? I believe I owe her something," he requested, politely.  
  
Michelle, grudgingly, nodded. She was hoping that Lee had forgotten the costume part he owed Emma.  
  
"How about this," she proposed, her fat face full of glee, "you let Emma get changed over here and, then, she can come over there and you two can have your little meeting."  
  
She didn't want her "staff" and chosen others to see Emma get something they would not be receiving. That would lead to questions she'd rather not have to make up answers for.  
  
Before the elf could reply, Michelle called for Emma to cross over to the other room when she was in full costume. She then dragged Spiro and Lee into the other room and shut the divider behind her.  
  
"What am I suppose to do with this?" Andrea called, pulling out a vest.  
  
"Wear it you idiot," Myra called, trying to pull pants over her sweats and failing miserably.  
  
"I got one better for you. What in the world is this?" Kim asked, pulling out a length of black cloth.  
  
"Oh.I know what that is," Danielle said.  
  
She grabbed the cape and began to run around the room yelling, "I'm Batman!"  
  
Emma shook her head and continued to work her way into her costume.  
  
"Alright," she thought as she worked her way through her shirt and brown over tunic, "this goes under here and that goes over it."  
  
Once she was dressed, which was well before everyone else, she took stock of her costume in the mirror. The only thing missing were the arm bands Legolas had promised to retrieve for her.  
  
She opened the divider a few inches and squeezed her way into the other room.  
  
Michelle and Spiro were off by the stereo, arguing about something she could only guess. From what she heard, a scant few snippets, they were arguing about the length of the ballet.  
  
Lee was standing off by "her spot," glancing around the room.  
  
The elf turned to face her even before Emma had said she was there. He gave her a friendly sort of smile.  
  
"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked.  
  
Legolas gave Emma a good once over. He shuddered inwardly about how uncanny in their closeness their appearances were, especially, in that costume.  
  
"I believe I owe you something," he said, pulling two leather objects out of his jacket.  
  
"Thanks so much," Emma said, turing them over in her hands.  
  
They were stiff and smelled like actual leather. A design had been etched into them but they felt unused. She could not figure out how to get them on, though.  
  
Legolas saw the confusion, mixed with an appreciation for the work done on the arm bands, on the younger elf's face.  
  
"Let me help you," he said, suppressing a smile.  
  
Emma handed the elf the two arms bands and held out her own arms.  
  
As he attached them to her arms, he said, "There is no need to thank me, Emma. Things such as this are easy to come by in my home. I should say in our home, since you are also an elf."  
  
Emma looked at the two leather bands attached to her arms with a new kind of amazement. She still hadn't gotten use to the idea of being an elf and, what's more, the idea of her being from an entirely different world still frightened her a little.  
  
"Can I ask what you said to me before, after you said 'Well met?' It sounded really pretty," she asked, upon seeing Michelle and Spiro take their argument outside.  
  
"I forget that you do not know our language. It was just a simple greeting in elvish asking how you were and wishing you well," he replied.  
  
"Really?" Emma, simply, asked.  
  
"Yes, really. When you come with me, I can teach you our language. Only if you want me to," the older elf proposed.  
  
"That would be really cool! You speak my language so that must mean not everyone speaks elvish where you're from," Emma surmised.  
  
"That is true. Many of us also speak this language in order to communicate with the race of me," Legolas explained.  
  
He started to say something more, when, suddenly, the divider flew open.  
  
"Are you two planning on joining us?" Michelle asked, her voice tinged with anger.  
  
"If you would have given us some warning, Michelle, we would have come sooner," Legolas replied, vouching for himself and Emma.  
  
Emma scurried off to join the rest of her class---a class that looked very uncomfortable in their costumes.  
  
"What do you think?" Spiro asked Lee, ignoring the praise Michelle heaped upon her chosen students.  
  
"If I may say, Spiro, none of your dancers are carrying themselves in the proper way. Do they have any knowledge of the books or film?" he said to the dance instructor.  
  
"Other than myself and Emma, no one has. Do you have any advice you can offer?" Spiro requested.  
  
"I do believe I can. We did something similar to this in my studio many years ago," the elf replied with a mental laugh.  
  
His knowledge was more of the first hand variety, having lived through the events these dancers were depicting.  
  
"Girls!" Spiro called, "Lee has something to say, so listen up."  
  
The class turned with an audible groan. They didn't want to hear anything from the man that had chosen weird little Emma over any of them.  
  
"I thank you Spiro. Now then, you are all carrying yourselves incorrectly for your parts. Kim you may look like you are wearing a travel worn costume but you are really the lost king in disguise. Do try to convey that correctly. The rest of you put your wigs on. Hobbits have curly hair not whatever types of hair you may have now and you all do not have the same personality. Andrea, your character is central to the story. He carries the ring. Danielle, you are Andrea's best friend and loyal servant. Try to make that aspect of his character come through your costume. Laura and Myra, your characters are tricksters, fun loving types who have good intentions," he explained to each dancer in turn.  
  
"What about that?" Kim said, pointing at Emma.  
  
Legolas regarded the younger elf for a few moments.  
  
"She carries her part off very well. She has a natural elven grace about her," he replied, causing Emma to blush.  
  
"You sure about that?" Andrea asked.  
  
"An's right. She looks like a boy stuffed into that get up," Kim added.  
  
"All of you are supposed to look like males. Anyway, male elves do have long hair like the females but that is it, though," he answered in defense of Emma.  
  
"Enough ladies," Michelle called, trying not to laugh.  
  
She, then, turned to Spiro and asked, "Why don't we run the dance once? Just to see how the costumes move."  
  
"I was going to do that anyway, Michelle," Spiro said, angrily.  
  
As the dancers walked to their respective places, Spiro placed a hand on Emma' shoulder.  
  
"Is mom here?" he requested.  
  
Emma nodded, happily.  
  
"Go downstairs and get her," Spiro requested.  
  
Emma ran down the stairs and called for her mother.  
  
As she walked back up to the classroom, with her mother in tow, she whispered, "He's here." 


	13. La Madre

AN: Hi everybody! Many thanks to all my reviewers (as usual)! You guys are the best!  
  
ldy ilmadris: Her mom's reaction is coming up!  
  
a fan of LotR and dance (time #3): I try to update as fast as I can but school and stuff get in the way. I'm probably the only person at the studio I dance who is proud of and enjoys the fact I dance on Pointe. I'm glad you like my little dance world.  
  
Elleiadrieal: Thanks! I'll try.  
  
Lomiothiel: As usual, thanks for the review! Legolas and Emma's mom are going to have a small talk soon.  
  
PixiePea000:Don't like the cliffhangers? I'll try to avoid them! By the way GOLLUM!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma ran up the stairs, eager to have her mother watch her dance. This would be the first time Shannon would see this ballet.  
  
Shannon lagged behind a bit. She was trying to decide what she wanted to say to this guy once she got the chance. She knew she didn't want to start a fight---that would be what her husband would do if he was here. She wanted to be diplomatic about it. Maybe have a nice discussion with this guy or something to that effect.  
  
"I'm not going to make a scene, for Emma's sake," Shannon made herself promise.  
  
Her daughter put up with enough quizzical abuse in the studio. There was no need for them to start picking on her because of something her mother did or said.  
  
Shannon got upstairs just as Spiro started the music. If Legolas was there, she didn't notice. She was too engrossed in the dance being preformed in front of her.  
  
All their bickering and differences seemed to be put aside for the duration of the dance. The students moved as if they were one unit. They weaved intricate patterns that only made sense to Spiro, across the wooden floor of the two rooms. Formations and cannons flowed into one another giving the dance depth. These students danced with an emotion that only Spiro could instill in them. Despite his gruff appearance, he gave these girls his heart. They returned it full of his emotions coupled with their own spirits.  
  
Of course, he didn't see that. Spiro was too busy screaming out corrections and orders to his dancing students. Somehow they were able to still dance and take corrections from Spiro. It was a skill you learned over time in Spiro's class. If you didn't learn the skill, you usually found yourself in a lower class or out of the studio entirely.  
  
"What did you think?" Spiro asked Shannon, after the dance had finished and he had finished screaming at the girls for all the tiny mistakes they had made.  
  
"It was beautiful," Shannon replied, wiping a tear from her eye, "you're talents are truly wasted here. You need to take this act on the road."  
  
Spiro just shrugged. His expression a combination of smug pride and a small amount of embarrassment from being complimented in such a way. She bid Shannon a good-bye having to go disentangle Laura's wig from her eyebrow ring.  
  
Emma bounded over to her mother, silvery-white hair flying behind her.  
  
"What did you think?" she asked, excitedly.  
  
"The ballet was beautiful, especially that small solo he gave you at the very beginning and the other one towards the middle," Shannon said.  
  
"The second one's not a solo. I have to do it with a person in the other class," Emma corrected.  
  
"While everyone in your own class dances with each other. That's really fair. Let me see this costume," Shannon commented.  
  
Emma stood still while her mother inspected her costume.  
  
"You know, I think this costume looks perfect on you, pixie. I really like the fact they're letting you keep your hair down. That's a nice touch," Shannon, finally, said.  
  
Emma smiled and pulled her mother into an unexpected hug.  
  
"See that guy over there," she whispered, "that's him. The guy who told me I was an elf."  
  
Shannon looked over Emma's shoulders and spotted Legolas for the first time.  
  
"Go get changed, pixie. I want to have a little talk with this guy," Shannon said.  
  
"Alright, mom," Emma said, grabbing her regular clothes and heading for the bather room that was on the far side of the back classroom.  
  
Shannon still could not decide how to approach this man. She didn't want to seem in any way confrontational but she wanted to get her point across in a firm manner.  
  
"Excuse me, sir; may I have a word with you?" Shannon requested of Legolas.  
  
"Of course you may," Legolas replied, turning so that he was fully facing Shannon.  
  
Like her daughter when she had first met Legolas all those Saturdays ago, Shannon had to take a pause. The eerie resemblance between this tall man and her daughter was startling.  
  
Fumbling for words, something she never did, Shannon managed to string together, "I'm Shannon, Emma's mother. You must be the dance scout my daughter's told me so much about."  
  
Legolas regarded Shannon for a few brief moments, wondering how much Emma had actually told her mother.  
  
"Not to sound self centered, as you put it here, but what exactly has Emma told you about me?" the elf asked.  
  
"What hasn't she told me. Let's see, she said you call yourself Legolas and they you claim to be an elf. You also claim that my daughter is an elf, just like you, and you are planning on taking her back to Middle Earth where both of you belonged," Shannon said, ticking points off on her fingers.  
  
"All of that is the truth, ma'am. Your daughter is a lost elf and I am here to see her home safely. It is what my father ordered me to do. When I recently returned with out her, he gave me quite an earful and threatened to take actions himself," Legolas explained in an undertone.  
  
The people at the studio were not ready to know about the two elves in the midst.  
  
"I'm not quite sure I believe you, despite the fact my daughter does. She'd like to find a link to her birth family and it seems you've become it. I can't discount the fact that both you and she look very much alike," Shannon said, trailing off a bit at the end.  
  
Legolas laughed brightly and commented, "Your daughter said something very, very similar. I will tell you what I told her, I do not think the two of us are related in anyway."  
  
Emma, meanwhile, came bounding out of the bathroom. She was dressed in her usual dance pants and black body suit. Her costume had been stuffed into its little bag, arm bands rest carefully in the bright yellow bag that held her Pointe shoes. She went over to join her mother and Legolas.  
  
"Did you talk to him?" Emma asked, during a lull in the conversation between Shannon and Legolas.  
  
"We're still talking, pixie. It's just that I'm finding all of this very hard to believe. If I had some proof, something solid to go on, I think I'd be able to believe him," Shannon explained to an eager to be believed Emma.  
  
"I can give your proof. The same proof I gave your daughter," Legolas offered.  
  
"Let's see it then," challenged Shannon, recalling what her daughter had said about the trick Legolas performed with the mirror.  
  
Getting Emma and Shannon to face the wide expanse of mirror they had been standing near, Legolas recreated the true reflections of both himself and Emma.  
  
Taking the elf completely by surprise, a third image, an unexpected image, appeared in the mirror.  
  
It was the image of a woman, dressed in the armor of the ancient Númenóreans. The armor was tradition in every way except for the shield she carried. The shield bore a flower with six petals, each petal a different color. The flowers center was a circle split in half. The top half was red, the bottom white. The image came up directly in front of Shannon, indicating that this was her true self.  
  
"Do you believe me now?" the elf asked Shannon.  
  
Shannon stood in stock still shock. This was a lot of information for her to take in. Her daughter, an elf. This man, also an elf. She was a---- well, she wasn't quite sure about that.  
  
"I guess I'll have to believe you," Shannon said, after getting her voice back and some of the shock wearing off, "since I don't see any of the normal ways someone would create an image like that."  
  
"See mom!" Emma, happily said, "I told you I wasn't lying."  
  
The smile on her daughter's face brought a cold splash of reality into Shannon's world. If Emma was truly an elf then she would have to surrender her Legolas and allow him to take her back with him. The idea of giving up the only child she'd ever have was too much for Shannon to deal with.  
  
A ray of hope brightened her bleak outlook. She could use that third image in the mirror to her advantage.  
  
"Who was that third person? If that was mean, that means I can go with Emma, right?" Shannon asked, questions spilling quickly out of her.  
  
"As I told Emma, I can not answer your questions. That decision would be up to my father," Legolas replied.  
  
"When can you speak to your father?" Shannon asked, both trying to buy some time and find some answers.  
  
"I will speak with him as soon as I am able to return to my own world," the elf replied, "I will give Emma the answers for you."  
  
The walk home for Emma and Shannon was full of tense silence. Both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.  
  
"It seems, pixie, that you were really never from around here," Shannon started as they entered their quiet house.  
  
"I guess not," Emma said with a shrug.  
  
"All the more reason, then, to think of you as a gift," Shannon whispered to Emma, taking the little elven girl into a hug.  
  
"I won't go with him, if you and dad can't go to," Emma said, firmly, to her mother.  
  
"Let's not talk about that now---we'll discuss that when the time comes," Shannon said quickly.  
  
(AN: The cannon I'm talking about is not that big thing that shoots metal balls. It's a dance word used to describe a series of steps done where one dancer starts on one count, let's say 1-2 [dancers count in either 8s or 6s] and then next starts on a 3-4 count, the next on the 5-6 count and the next on the 7-8 count and the next on the 2-2 count [since we're starting a new set of eight]---you get the idea.) 


	14. Il Pacchetto

AN: I'm glad to have so many wonderful reviewers along for the preverbal ride. Hold on tight, because things are about to get a bit bumpy.  
  
ldy imladris: Thanks! Who she goes with to Middle Earth is coming up very soon.  
  
Elleiadrieal: The third images, as well as the armor, come into play very soon. I thank you for the review!  
  
PixiePea000: What Shannon is will be revealed eventually. I'd be in a whole heap of trouble if the real Spiro ever read this. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
With no class during Easter break, Shannon and Mitchell decided to take Emma on a small vacation. The small family had not been on a proper vacation in several years. The weather was nice enough and they figured Emma shouldn't spend the vacation cooped up either in the house or in the small neighborhood they lived in.  
  
They were planning on taking a small trip to Port St. Lucie, Florida. Mitchell's job was requiring him to pay a visit to Thomas J. White Stadium, the spring training home of the New York Mets. He was to interview the Mets star pitcher Nicholas Giacatore, a young left hander who was rising to fame with his blazing fastball and perfect curve.  
  
Just as they were about to leave, there was a sharp knock at the door.  
  
"I'll get it!" called Emma, from the living room.  
  
She was the only person on the first floor and, as such, the closet to the door.  
  
"Make sure you ask who it is before opening it," Mitchell called from the top of the stairs.  
  
He and Shannon were trying to get all the suit cases out into the hallway before attempting to take them down the stairs.  
  
"I know dad!" Emma called in reply.  
  
Emma walked over to the door and, standing on tip toe, peered out the peep hole. A man dressed in mud brown holding a brown box feeling the small viewfinder.  
  
"Who is it?" Emma called, before opening the door.  
  
"U.P.S. Delivery," came the reply.  
  
"Hold on, please," Emma, politely, said.  
  
She called for her mom and dad to come down since she could not sign for the package herself and she was not planning on forging one of her parent's signatures.  
  
Both Shannon and Mitchell came down the stairs looking slightly annoyed. One of the larger suitcases was stuck in the doorway of their room and was not budging.  
  
"Who's at the door, Em?" Mitchell asked.  
  
"U.P.S. They delivery man said that he has a package for us," Emma explained.  
  
Mitchell opened the door and talked briefly with the brown clad delivery man. He signed for the packaged and kicked the door closed behind him.  
  
"Now I know I didn't order anything that would come U.P.S.," Mitchell commented, taking the box and placing it on the kitchen table.  
  
"Don't look at me, I haven't ordered anything from the Internet or a catalogue," Shannon said in defense of herself.  
  
Mitchell gave Emma a curious look and casually placed a hand on the box.  
  
"I haven't done anything. I don't even have a credit card," the child exclaimed.  
  
"Maybe we shouldn't open it," Shannon commented worry evident in her voice.  
  
She placed her hand on the books, peering close to the mailing label she didn't recognize.  
  
"Can I see?" Emma requested, climbing up on a chair and placing her hand next to her mother's.  
  
Her touch did something to the box. It began to glow, softly at first but brighter and brighter in a short span of moments. The light began to radiate outwards, spilling onto the table and covering the hands of Emma and her parents.  
  
Try as they might they could not remove their hands from the now glowing box.  
  
The light moved upward, engulfing the three figures. Someone screamed and, with in the blink of an eye, they were gone.  
  
(AN: Port St. Lucie is the Spring Training home of the New York Mets, my favorite baseball team. They play their Spring Training games at Thomas J. White Stadium. Usually, though, that stadium is used by the NY Mets minor league, Class A team the Port St. Lucie Mets. The player I reference is not an actually player for the New York Mets. Rather, he is a baseball playing mutant from an X-Men fan fiction I'm working on. It was just a one shot reference, nothing more will come of it.) 


	15. Il Corridoio Del Re

AN: I'm so happy so many of you like my story! I hope you all stay on for the rest of this bumpy ride.  
  
lil kawaii doom: I'm slightly fond of cliffhangers (if you haven't noticed that already). I think they keep people reading---that's just my assumption, though. I could be wrong.  
  
Lomiothiel: Thanks, as usual! Sorry about the confusion. I'll try to clear it up in the coming chapters.  
  
kurleyhawk2: Middle Earth gets closer and closer for my characters. It may show up sooner than later now.  
  
Itheilden: The contents of the box will be revealed very, very soon. The long name is a homage to the three things I like the best, science/X-Men (genetics specifically), Lord of the Rings (elves), and Harry Potter (Gryffindor). Like I said before, I really like writing cliffhangers.  
  
A fan of LotR and dance (time #4): The entire story is actually written but I have to find the time to revise and type it out. I'm very glad you like my story and I appreciate the complements.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole. Down, down, down she fell for what seemed like hours and hours. Her descent had come to a rather abrupt halt when she felt her head hit something very hard. All sense of time, place, and being was gone. It was replaced by total and utter darkness.  
  
She became aware of the sounds of people around her, of a hustle and bustle sort of motion. There was an earthy, natural smell in the air mingling with a sterile, almost medical scent. It was dark. Not indicating that it was nighttime. More like making Emma aware of the fact her eyes were closed.  
  
Emma attempted to open her eyes but she found it akin to trying to wake up from a deep, painful sleep. With a bit of an effort, Emma managed to open her eyes.  
  
"Where am I?" she mumbled, making an attempt to sit up.  
  
A firm hand pushed her back down again.  
  
"No, no lay still, little one. I am very pleased to see that you are awake. We were all quite worried about you," said a woman sitting near her bed.  
  
Emma fell back into the cushioned bed she had been laying on. She took a brief moment to survey her surroundings. She was in some kind of infirmary, apparent by the rows of beds and the people working in the room. The room was in some type of natural out cropping---a cave but not. Here and there, there were signs that a forest was near by.  
  
"Please, tell me where I am? Where are my parents?" Emma asked, panicking slightly because she was not able to discern the familiar forms of her parents in any of the other beds.  
  
The woman regarded Emma with kindly eyes. She, herself, was a mother and to see a child hurt or scared, bother her greatly.  
  
"I will tell you as much as I can, little one, for I know very little about what happened," the woman started.  
  
She drew a deep breath, as if extra strength was needed for the telling of this tale.  
  
"When you and your two parents, as you refer to them, arrived, you took a very nasty fall. You were rendered unconscious and brought straight here. I can not say what happened to the two others that were with you," the woman explained.  
  
Emma's head was spinning. The last thing she remembered was the brown package that her father had placed on the kitchen table beginning to glow and her mother screaming. After that it was all dark. She didn't at all understand what was going on and that was upsetting here.  
  
"How did I get here?" she asked.  
  
Then she added, "Please call me Emma not little one."  
  
"My name is Oire, little one. You arrived here by the means of some odd transporter a very strange wizard---well, he called himself a wizard but he did not look like a proper wizard to me---brought here some time ago," the woman explained.  
  
With a gulp, Emma asked, "Where, exactly, is here?"  
  
"You are in Mirkwood, Emma, Middle Earth," Oire replied.  
  
Emma's first reaction was one of confusion and horror. She didn't understand why she was brought here or how come she was being told she was currently resting in a fictional location.  
  
Then Emma's memory kicked in. Middle Earth was real. She, herself, was an elf. She belonged here. This was her home world.  
  
"But he promised not to take me here until I was ready," Emma mentally mused.  
  
Before she could bring up Legolas and the information he had provided her with, three guards marched into the room. All three were helmed and armed, making Emma lay further back in the bed.  
  
"Lady Oire is the child awake?" the first guard, one with an oddly shaped symbol on his chest, asked.  
  
"Aye, she's awake. Why do you want to know?" Oire replied, angrily.  
  
She did not appreciate the idea of heavily armed guards entering her territory and asking about someone in her care.  
  
"His Lordship wishes to speak with her," the same guard answered in a snapping voice.  
  
"Go back and tell his Lordship, Gondo," Oire said, addressing the curt guard with his given name, "that he can speak with her tomorrow. She requires another day or so of rest."  
  
"I am very sorry but his Lordship ordered us to bring the child to him today," the second guard said in a careful voice.  
  
To Emma, it sounded like he didn't want to upset or raise the ire of Oire.  
  
The woman began to argue with the three guards in a language Emma could only assume was elvish. After a few moments, Emma saw that Oire was fighting a losing battle. She was going to have to go with these three guards, no matter what the woman said on her behalf.  
  
"It's alright," Emma spoke up, "I'm feeling better. I think I can go with them."  
  
Oire and the three guards looked over to the child, watching as she sat up in her bed.  
  
"Are you sure, little one? Perhaps, you should rest a bit more," Oire recommended.  
  
"I'm mostly sure," Emma replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.  
  
It was then Emma noticed that was not dressed as she was before. Before she was transported, Emma had been wearing denim coveralls with a yellow t- shirt and white sneakers. Now she was barefooted and in some king of long, brown, nightgown like dress.  
  
"Where are my clothes?" Emma asked.  
  
"There were not appropriate for you. These are far better. Good Luck," Oire called.  
  
"Thank you," Emma called in reply.  
  
The guard with the strange symbol on his chest stood in front of Emma. The other two flanked her left and right side.  
  
A long walk later, the four elves reached a very long and wide room. Emma could only assume that this was some type of throne room, considering they wanted her to speak to their ruler.  
  
The room, itself, was ornately decorated with columns cut of the rock and all sorts of interesting looking things hanging from the walls. Emma's sensitive eyes could pick out a dais on the far end.  
  
The guard Oire called Gondo said something to Emma in his own language. A language, Emma didn't understand.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand," she said to the guard, a bit of fear in her voice.  
  
"He said approach the throne, child," the third guard, the one Emma hadn't head speak in the infirmary, said.  
  
Emma didn't move for a split second. Her muscles, for some strange reason, did not feel like they wanted to cooperate. The first guard, Gondo, gave Emma a hard shove, starting her toward the front of the room.  
  
Without so much as a look behind her or a hand coming up to rub the small of the back where the guard had shoved her, Emma walked the length of the room. She stopped when she had reached the steps leading up to the dais.  
  
On the throne sat a stately looking elf. He had a wooden scepter in his hand and a wreath of flowers, almost like a crown, on his head. He work dark, somber looking robes and was, currently, talking to a female who was standing next to his throne.  
  
The elf whispered something to the female and she left via some kind of side exit. He, then, turned to face Emma, giving her a look of dismay.  
  
"I am Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood. You are?" he requested to know.  
  
"My name is Emma, sir, Emma O'Connolly," she replied, not exactly knowing how to address royalty.  
  
"Emma, lost one of the elves, it is good that you are home. I trust you are ready to spend your new life here," Thranduil proclaimed.  
  
"Not really, sir. I was promised I could come here when I was ready," Emma explained, not wanting to mention who made that promise to her.  
  
The king gave her a puzzled look.  
  
"Where are my parents?" Emma asked, hoping that this high ranking person would know where they were.  
  
"The man and woman who arrived with you? They are of no concern now. They will be sent back and you will stay here, where you belong. Regardless of any promise you were given," he answered.  
  
"But---but," sputtered Emma.  
  
"None of that, child. That is my word and as such is beyond uncontestation," Thranduil said, his voice carrying a tone of severe finality.  
  
Emma, lonely, afraid, and confused, sunk to the floor and began to cry.  
  
(AN: That "beyond contestation" line comes from the movie A Knight's Tale. It sound so cool in the movie that I had to include it somewhere.) 


	16. Il Padre ed Il Figlio

AN: You reviewers are the best! I take my hat (ok my green, pin covered, NY Mets baseball cap) off to all of you.  
  
Elleiadrieal: I could, technically, leave you on the edge of that cliff for a very long time but, as you can see, I'm not!  
  
Aislynn Crowdaughter: I know the essay you're talking about "The Laws and Customs of the Eldar" from the book Morgoth's Ring. I just recently got my hands on a copy of it and this story was written way before that. What you propose is very true. I figured her mother is to darn stubborn to see anything wrong with Emma, no matter how obvious. (I actually know parents who take that attitude about their kids.)  
  
Lomiothiel: What are you confused about? I'll gladly explain to clear it up. Thanks for your review, as usual. We'll get to everyone's favorite elf (not really everyone's, my sister doesn't like him) soon.  
  
kurleyhawk2: The story's set post Return of the King. As I said before, Legolas will show up soon.  
  
Chrystyna: Thanks!  
  
PixiePea000: Her parents will come up sooner or later and there is going to be many more elf sightings. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
ldy imladris: I'll try to keep them coming. Thanks!  
  
Bean02: I didn't know there were so many fans of that one line. It's just a powerful sounding thing to say and it's great because not a lot of people know what "beyond contestation" means. Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
"Your father is in a meeting, sir," one of the guards informed the prince as her approached the throne room.  
  
"I have information regarding the state of the borders of our home. Would you please let me in?" Legolas told the guards.  
  
To get away from his father, who was quite upset that Legolas had failed to bring his quarry home, the prince had taken to riding with the border guards.  
  
"Let him in," the other guard said.  
  
"As you wish," the first guard said.  
  
The two stepped away from the door way and allowed Legolas to enter the throne room.  
  
The prince walked nearly half the length of the room, eyes darting here and there as he took in the usual sights of the throne room, before he called, "Father, the borders are."  
  
He trailed off when he saw the small figure huddled on the floor.  
  
"It cannot be," he mumbled, "He would not dare."  
  
The elf ran the rest of the length of the room.  
  
At this point, Emma was sitting on the floor. Her knees were pulled into her chest and her arms were wrapped around her knees. Her head was down, resting on her knees, and she was crying softly.  
  
The king spotted the running figure that was his only son and heir and gave a grand smile.  
  
"It is a joyous occasion. Our little lost elf has returned," he announced.  
  
Legolas, ignoring his father for the moment, went over to check on Emma. She looked utterly miserable but seemed to be in otherwise good physical condition.  
  
"I am happy to see that she has returned, father, but how is it she arrived here. I was under the impression that I was going to bring her here," Legolas questioned.  
  
"Your means were to slow, son, I decided to take matters into my own hands. She, and two foul imposters she calls her parents, were brought here by an interesting object called a Portkey. Something that red haired wizard brought here," Thranduil, coolly, replied.  
  
Legolas sighed and began, "I wanted her to come of her own accord. Forcing her into coming here will do more harm then good."  
  
"I do not care. She is here, that is all that matters. The two foul imposters will be sent back when you return from your mission," Thranduil cut in.  
  
"What mission?" Legolas asked.  
  
This was the first time he had heard of any mission. He had thought his mission was only to retrieve Emma.  
  
"You and a small party of guards will take the child to Lothlorien. The Lady's mirror may help to discern her parentage and where she rightfully belongs," the king explained.  
  
Hearing this new information, Emma picked her head up. She didn't want to go on any journey, except for the one that would take her and her parents back home. Staying here, with this horribly cruel person in charge was not high on her list of things she had wanted to do.  
  
"When do we leave?" Legolas questioned.  
  
"As soon as possible. You are to take this child and prepare her for the journey ahead," Thranduil answered.  
  
His tone was that of a person who did not want to be argued with.  
  
"We will take our leave of you then," Legolas said, sketching a small bow in deference to his father's position.  
  
The king made a dismissive gesture, indicating that he was done speaking with his son.  
  
"Come along, Emma. There is much to be done," urged Legolas, as he turned his attention to the smaller elf.  
  
Emma, motions sluggish, got to her feet and allowed herself to be lead out into the wide corridors.  
  
"You didn't have anything to do with this, right?" she asked, after walking in silence for quite awhile.  
  
"I gave you my oath, Emma, that I would not remove you from your home until you told me you were ready. I do not break my oaths," Legolas replied.  
  
Emma considered his words and nodded her admission of innocence.  
  
Making a sharp left at some kind of four ways intersection, Emma asked, "Can you, please, find out what happened to my mom and dad? Your father said he was going to send them home."  
  
"That I can do," Legolas replied.  
  
He called over an idle guard and began to speak with him in rapid fire elvish. Emma just stood there and listened to the melodic language. She didn't understand what they were saying.  
  
"He said that he has just come from guarding the room where your parents are being kept. Thankfully, they are not being held captive in a cell. Instead, they are resting in a guarded guest room. I told him to send word to Shannon that you are alive, safe, and with me. Is that alright?" Legolas explained.  
  
Emma, again, nodded her approval. She felt better knowing her parents were safe and that they would soon know that she was also alive and well.  
  
The two elves reached a doorway carved out of the rock.  
  
"Are we going someplace very far?" she asked.  
  
Though she was quite familiar with the books, Emma imagined that the distances were far greater then what was written.  
  
"It is a far enough journey but we should make good time on horseback," Legolas replied, ushering Emma into the room the door way led into.  
  
"Horseback? I don't know how to ride a horse. My mom was afraid that if I were to get on a horse, I'd break something and not be able to dance," Emma babbled.  
  
"You will ride with me, then," Legolas offered.  
  
"Thanks, I think," Emma replied.  
  
She took a look around the room she had just been ushered into. Like the throne room, it seemed to be carved out of the rock. The room wasn't as opulent or ornate as the throne but it still looked fancy. This room had a more natural, cozy feel to it and, because of this fact, Emma immediately liked this room.  
  
"These are my chambers," Legolas informed Emma, "Make yourself comfortable."  
  
Emma took a seat on one of squashy looking couches and, before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.  
  
(AN: I know I'm messing with cannon a bit by keeping Galadriel in Middle Earth. I'm well aware of the events that take place post-Return of the King. I'm just having a bit of fun here. Please read and review!) 


	17. Per Fare I Preperations

AN: Hi All! I'm pretty sure this is a bit of a record for me---three updates in a week. Anyway, I appreciate your reviews and I'm glad all of you send them.  
  
ldy imladris: Thanks as usual! Emma's going to do several things before she leaves.  
  
Lomiothiel: As always, thanks for the review. Her parents, especially her father, may vent their feelings on the wrong person.  
  
Neo Serenity: I appreciate your comments but can you please tell me how. I can't do anything about it unless I know how.  
  
Elleiadrieal: I'm sorry if I sounded rude in my reply. The response is something my sister says. When someone asks her if she's going to do something she, usually, responds with "I could." I can assure you Legolas will make sure Emma stays safe.  
  
PixiePea000: The mirror I'm referring to now shows (and I quote from the first movie) "things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass." By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma awoke with a start. She could not recall where she was or how she had gotten there. Panic began to overtake her. All she knew was that she was alone and in a very strange place.  
  
Her mind, still a bit addled from the injury she had sustained, slowly began to feed her information. She was in Middle Earth, specifically Mirkwood. She was to go on some type of journey with Legolas and her parents were going to be sent away.  
  
She got up and began to walk about the room. Her attention was drawn to a piece of paper, with her name written on it, sitting on a small table. She walked over to the table and picked the piece of paper up. She broke the seal on the envelope and read its contents.  
  
"Emma, I have been called down to the stables in order to sort out the rest of our party. Do not, under any circumstances, leave my chambers. I do not want you getting lost. I have left you something to eat on the table in the next room. Make sure you eat something. I am unsure when our next meal will be. Change out of that dress you are wearing as well. Oire came by while you were sleeping and brought you clothing. It should be draped on the couch you were sleeping on. Remember to stay in my chambers--- Legolas"  
  
Emma looked around the room once more, noting the large amount of food sitting on a table across the room and her new clothing rested across the couch.  
  
"I'll have to thank him, again," Emma decided, as she inspected the outfit that had been left for her.  
  
The outfit was similar in design to her ballet costume, pausing her for a moment as thoughts of her real home invaded her mind, but the colors were slightly different. The shirt was dark brown and the tunic over it was a lighter green. The leggings were of the dame hue as the shirt. Brown boots, that looked slightly too large, and a black leather belt were the final pieces to the outfit. She shook the thoughts free of her mind as she changed her clothes.  
  
She set the dress she had been wearing on the couch and made her way over to the table. The sight of the food had reminded Emma that she hadn't eaten in several long hours.  
  
Emma sighed; as she sat down to try to eat something. She hated eating alone. Back home, Emma never, ever ate alone. One of her parents, usually her mother, would sit with her as she ate, even if they, themselves, were not planning on eating at that point in time.  
  
Tears filled Emma's eyes as she thought of her parents. She bit her lip and blinked her tears back. The knowledge that her parents were safe and would soon know she was safe gave her a bit of hope. Of course, the idea that they were not going to be there when she got back, if that wicked elf had his way, bothered her. She hoped that he would stall their departure until Legolas came back.  
  
Take a bit of whatever she could recognize, Emma began to eat.  
  
She stopped when she heard someone approaching. Panic, again, overtaking her, Emma abandoned her small meal, and ducked under the table.  
  
"Emma, are you awake?" called Legolas, upon his entry into his own chambers.  
  
He spied the dress resting across the top of the couch and, out of the corner of his eye, noted something moving underneath a table.  
  
A few quick runs later, Legolas sat on the floor next to where Emma was making a valiant attempt to hide.  
  
He gave a small chuckle and asked, "It is good to see that you are awake but why are you sitting under the table?"  
  
Emma crawled out from underneath the table, feeling slightly foolish.  
  
"Sorry," she, sheepishly, said, "I got scared."  
  
"No harm done, Emma. Have you finished eating?" Legolas questioned, standing up.  
  
"I guess so. By the way, thanks for everything," Emma replied, standing as well.  
  
"There is no need to thank me. Come, we are going to pack some of this food and then we have to go," Legolas explained.  
  
"Wait," Emma stated, "I'm not going to get to say good bye to my mom and dad. What if they get sent away while I'm gone? You're dad said he wanted to send them away."  
  
"We do not have time for you to see your parents. For that I am sorry," Legolas, sadly, said.  
  
"But what if they're sent away?" Emma asked horror evident in her voice.  
  
"My father gave me his word that they will not be sent away. I told him of the third image in the mirror, the one that appeared before your mother, and he has conceded to let them stay until I return," Legolas replied.  
  
Emma smiled and felt a little less fearful. Her parents would be there when she got back, even if it was for a small amount of time.  
  
Several minutes later, Emma and Legolas arrived at the stables.  
  
Emma hung back, as far away from the horses as she could. She never liked horses and had never been on one. Other then the ever present fear of getting hurt, there was something about horses that bothered Emma.  
  
"Come here, Emma," Legolas called, nothing the fact that Emma seemed extremely fearful of the horses.  
  
Emma, carefully, inched her way over to Legolas.  
  
"Yes, what do you need," she asked.  
  
"Before we leave, allow me to introduce the rest of the party. That is Wiggy; his mother was the one who cared for you in the healing house. The other two are sisters---Ice and Fire," Legolas said, pointing the other three elves out.  
  
"Are those their real names?" Emma asked, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the names of the three other elves.  
  
Legolas shook his head and replied, "That is what they call themselves. They are rangers that ride in a small elven company."  
  
The three elves wore cloaks of gray and moved with practiced skill. Ice and Fire were exceedingly alike in appearance. Both had long light hair and light gray eyes. Ice's hair and eyes appeared to be slightly lighter than her sister's. Wiggy's appearance sharply contrasted that of the two sisters'. Other than being slightly larger in stature and weight, he had dark brown hair, cut to his shoulders, and dark eyes.  
  
The three elves nodded a quiet greeting and set about their work, again.  
  
Emma watched the remainder of the setting up from the top of a very large bale of hay.  
  
"They're almost like dancers. They work in time with each other and look like they're in each other's ways but they're not," she mused as she watched.  
  
"Can you please come down, Emma?" Legolas questioned.  
  
She nodded and deftly hopped off her perch. She stood against the far wall.  
  
Legolas motioned for her to come over. She shook her head. He was too near a horse for her own comfort.  
  
"Emma, come here," he ordered.  
  
She moved slowly, hoping to avoid whatever he wanted her to do with the horse.  
  
"This is Arod, my horse," Legolas informed Emma.  
  
"That's nice," she said, blandly, fighting the urge to run.  
  
"He's not going to hurt you. Trust me," Legolas cajoled.  
  
"I trust you," Emma stated, "I don't trust him."  
  
She pointed to the horse.  
  
Legolas took Emma's hand and placed it on the horse's neck. He began to move her hand in a petting motion. After a while, Legolas removed his hand and watched as Emma continued to pet the horse.  
  
He smiled and joked, "He is not biting your hand off I see."  
  
Emma nodded and returned the smile.  
  
"I guess not," she replied.  
  
"Prince, we are ready to leave," called Wiggy in a surprisingly deep voice.  
  
He climbed on to his saddles horse with the two sister's following suit.  
  
"One more moment, Wiggy," Legolas replied, adding something to the statement in his own language.  
  
He took Emma aside, an odd look on his face.  
  
"I know you do not know what to do with this but we are going to be traveling and I do know want you unarmed," Legolas said.  
  
"Unarmed?" Emma repeated.  
  
Legolas handed Emma a small object in a leather sheath. She took the object and removed a small dagger from the leather sheath.  
  
"Tuck that into your belt and keep it with you at all times," he ordered her.  
  
Emma did as she was told, the leather sheathed dagger into the belt that was cinched around the center of her tunic.  
  
"I'm not sure I can use this," Emma said, her voice a bit shaky.  
  
"I know but it will make me feel better if you have it. You would be surprised at what you can do in certain situations," Legolas said.  
  
"Are you ready yet, Prince?" called Fire.  
  
"Fire," Ice called, admonishing her younger sister in a different sounding version of elvish.  
  
Legolas said something to the two sisters as he mounted his horse. He, then, offered a hand to Emma.  
  
"I don't know what you want me to do. I don't know the first thing about riding," Emma admitted.  
  
"Take my hand and jump like I have seen you jump during your dance lessons. What is it that man says? Oh yes, jump up and out," Legolas ordered, borrowing a phrase from Spiro.  
  
Emma nodded, remembering that those specific orders from Spiro only applied to grande jetes in ballet and split leaps in jazz, and jumped as she was ordered. She felt a strong tug on her arm and found herself sitting in front of Legolas on his horse.  
  
"Now what?" Emma asked, trying not to stare at the ground which seemed so far away.  
  
"You hang on to Arod's neck and I will hand on to you," Legolas explained.  
  
"If you say so," Emma commented, skeptically, hanging on as best she could.  
  
With a word, Legolas spurred his horse forward. The three other riders followed suit.  
  
Soon the caves of Mirkwood gave way to open plains.  
  
(AN: I'm really sorry if this chapter was slow and kind of horrid. Please read and review---good, bad, indifferent.) 


	18. Allungare

AN: Now I know this is a record week for me because I'm updating again! I'd just like to throw this out there, if you're going to say my story is becoming Mary-Sueish can you please explain to me how. I can't do anything about it if I don't know what you're referring to. Anyway, I just needed to get that out there, please don't take it the wrong way. I really do appreciate all your reviews. You guys make typing up this story (which I really wasn't intending to post) worth it.  
  
Lomiothiel: I'm glad I could help you kill of sometime before school. Checking my reviews does the same for me, especially on days when I have later starting classes. I hope your feeling better, mood wise.  
  
ldy imladris: Thanks! I'll try!  
  
Chrystyna: I'm glad you liked it! There some rather major stuff coming up soon.  
  
Animouse: I reiterate, if you are going to say something like that, can you please tell me how so. I can fix it, but I have to know what I'm doing to make it seem that way first.  
  
Elainor: Thanks! I'm not all that fond of Thranduil because of how he was characterized in The Hobbit. I'm glad you like how I'm using the characters and I'm glad you like my other character.  
  
PixiePea000: Fire and Ice---two opposing elements but they're sisters. Wiggy got his name, of course, from the nickname of a certain NY Mets third baseman. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Itheilden: Quite alright. I seem to be having a good week for updates. You'll find out what she sees pretty soon.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma wasn't quite sure how long they'd been riding. She had been to preoccupied watching the changing landscapes and how the fading sun played on the colors of the scenery. By the time Legolas had called for a halt, the moon had risen to a very high point in the star dappled sky.  
  
The four elves dismounted their horses, Legolas helping a very sleepy Emma off of his. Using a bit of rope from his back, Wiggy went to tie the horses off to a near by tree.  
  
"We will camp here tonight, "Legolas announced, "I will take the first watch."  
  
"Will she get a turn on guard duty?" Fire asked, pointing to Emma.  
  
"She has no fighting experience, Fire. She is exempt from guard duty," Legolas countered.  
  
"We are being expected to guard her without her having a turn. That is unfair," Fire commented.  
  
"If the prince says she does not have to guard, then she does not have to have a turn. It is his decision to make, little sister. He is a prince after all," Ice told her sister.  
  
Fire seemed to want to say something else but thought better of it and busied herself with her bedroll.  
  
Emma, meanwhile, wasn't quite sure if she should be happy that she was being allowed to sleep or angry since Legolas didn't trust her. She was too tired to care, either way, though. What Emma really wanted was to be home, asleep in her own bed.  
  
The elves moved around her, setting up a small camp.  
  
"Little one, you sleep here," called Ice, patting an open bed roll.  
  
Emma, slowly, made her way over.  
  
"Thank you," she mumbled, before falling sound asleep.  
  
Emma felt someone shaking her, someone trying to wake her. In her sleep addled brain, that indicated that it was most likely morning.  
  
"I'm up, I'm up," she mumbled, propping herself up on one of her elbows.  
  
She rubbed her eyes with her available hand, trying to get the sleep out of them, and noticed that it was Fire who had woken her up. The elf appeared to be in a better mood today.  
  
"Good morning," she, pleasantly, said.  
  
Emma just managed a small smile, as she was still a little tired and in dire need of a good stretching. Sleeping on the hard ground bothered her and her dance trained muscles.  
  
"Come along," Fire ordered, "first we eat, then we can continue on."  
  
Fire started to walk away, leaving Emma sitting on her bed roll. The younger elf scrambled to her feet and followed after Fire.  
  
She trotted after Fire who led her to where the other elves sat.  
  
"Look what finally decided to wake up and grave us with her presence," Fire quipped.  
  
Emma sat down in the space between Legolas and Wiggy.  
  
"Good morning, all," she said, with a bit of cheerfulness in her voice.  
  
All the years of early ballet classes with Spiro, who expected you to be bright eyed and bushy tailed, had made Emma into a morning person.  
  
Ice passed Emma some type of cakey looking item and a red apple.  
  
"Thank you," she said with a smile.  
  
She was wide awake now but still felt she needed to stretch. The muscles in her back and legs were bothering her, sore from riding and sleeping on the ground.  
  
"If I may say, Legolas, your young friend sleeps in the oddest manner," commented Fire.  
  
"How so?" the prince asked.  
  
"She sleeps with her eyes closed, most unusual for an elf," Ice replied.  
  
"Where I'm from," Emma explained, "that's how people sleep. It's part of their nature, I guess."  
  
The two sisters looked a little baffled so Emma decided it would be in her best interest to drop the subject.  
  
"Excuse them, little elf, they are from Lothlorien and know very little about the nature of the race of men. The only members of that race they are bound to meet are the occasional ranger," Wiggy said to Emma with a sly smile.  
  
"Is that why you two came with us? Are you going home?" Emma proposed.  
  
"Very observant, child. We are headed back home for a short span of time," Ice answered.  
  
"We were sent by our father and Captain on a message to Mirkwood. This seemed like the best time to travel back home," Fire added.  
  
"What about you? Why did you come along?" Emma asked, turning to Wiggy.  
  
"I ride with Fire and Ice in the same band of rangers. I am headed back to Captain and to a new assignment," Wiggy replied, in his strangely deep voice.  
  
"So you went to Mirkwood to see your mother?" Emma concluded.  
  
"Of course. I may be a ranger but she is still my mother. I go to see her every so often," Wiggly confirmed.  
  
The four elves chatted a bit more, eating and getting ready for another hard day of riding.  
  
"It is getting late. We should be going" Legolas announced, getting up.  
  
The other elves, save Emma, got up as well.  
  
"Come along, child," Fire groaned.  
  
"Hold on," Emma said, scooting back so her back was flush up against a thick tree trunk.  
  
She straddled her legs nearly one hundred and eighty degrees and stretched forward so that her stomach touched the ground. The elves watched in amazement as she repeated the front stretch a few more times and leaned to her right and left, hands brushing her booted feet.  
  
She got up and raised her hands over her head. She bent backwards until her hands rested flat on the ground. Her back formed an arch between her hands and feet. Emma, with a slight rocking motion, came up with her hands still in the air.  
  
"Alright, now I'm ready to go," Emma said, satisfied with the nearly inaudible cracking sounds her back had made.  
  
"What was that for?" Legolas asked, as he mounted his horse and helped Emma onto the creature.  
  
"I needed to stretch out my back and that's the best way I know how," she explained with a smile.  
  
Legolas just shook his head and said, "Hang on tight today, Little Elf, I mean to cover a great deal of ground.  
  
"I'll hold on," she confirmed.  
  
Calling out a phrase in his native tongue, the four riders were on the move again.  
  
(AN: What I said about Spiro wanting his dancers to be bright eyed and bushy tailed early in the morning is very true. Having a ballet class at 8:00 AM in Saturdays, is a very good way to learn about that. Please review- --good, bad, indifferent---I don't care!) 


	19. I Legno Dorati

AN: One more update either to end the old week or start the new one, since I'm typing this at about 1:21 AM. Anyway, you reviewers are the best. I take my beat up, pin covered, green NY Mets baseball cap off to all of you. I'm very glad so many of you read and review this story of mine.  
  
Gollumseye: Thanks for the review. By the way, I like the name. My nickname is Gollum.  
  
Oracle: I didn't know there were so many ballet fans on this site. I'm glad you like my characters and more about Fire and Ice will be revealed shortly.  
  
Lomiothiel: I really do have ballet lessons at 8:00 AM. It's not as bad as you'd think. You get use to it after a while. As a college student, I've seen people try to sleep with their eyes open. It really doesn't work. Why did you climb all those flights of stairs?  
  
kurleyhawk2: Thanks and I will try. The only time my updates may get a bit few and far between is when finals start.  
  
PixiePea000: That guy can be downright hostile in the morning. Make a mistake on a step when he's having a bad morning and you're liable to have your head bitten off. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Elleiadrieal: Thanks and I really will try. Emma's parents are under lock and key back in Mirkwood. They're safe and sound and worried though, especially her mother.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma's days became a blur of riding for many hours, camping for the night, waking up, eating, and riding again. She was not sure how long they had traveled, whether it had been two days or two weeks or, even, two months.  
  
One evening, Legolas whispered to Emma, "Look up, little elf, we have reached the Golden Woods."  
  
Emma, who was pressed against the horse's neck, struggled to a normal sitting position. She felt Legolas help her into a normal riding position, hands remaining on her waist just in case she began to slide in either direction.  
  
Emma looked around the horse's head and her breath caught at the sight before her. It was the largest forest she had ever seen, even larger then some of the forests she had camped in during her years as a Girl Scout. The trees were enormous and, even from a distance, the looked ancient. The trees appeared to shimmer in the twilight creating an ethereal appearance to the woods before her.  
  
"It's beautiful," she breathed, more to herself.  
  
Legolas's sensitive hearing picked up the young elf's comment and he could not help but smile.  
  
"Do people actually live there?" she whispered to Legolas.  
  
"Men do not dwell under the eaves of those trees. A dwindling population of elves does," Legolas replied as he led the group down a narrow path.  
  
They traveled slowly, the path being very narrow in some places.  
  
"Halt! Who goes there?" called a fair sounding voice as the group neared a dense, tree lined area of the path.  
  
Emma heard Ice and Fire comment to each other. It appeared the two of them knew the owner of the voice.  
  
Gray clad figures stepped out of the trees. All held large bows at the ready. Emma tensed at the sight of the figures, afraid of what they might do. She felt Legolas straighten up behind her.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood Forest," he announced.  
  
Following the prince's lead, the other elves announced themselves to the cadre of guards.  
  
"Wiggy. I seek Captain," announced a very deep voice off to Emma's left.  
  
Emma heard the two sisters speak but they did not introduce themselves as Ice and Fire, as she had expected them to do.  
  
"Litsetaure of these fair woods," a voice-Ice's-called from Emma's right.  
  
"Marille also of these fair woods," Fire called from the rear of the quartette.  
  
The lead guard, upon hearing the names of the two females, smiled and called, "It is good to see you are both well, daughters."  
  
Both sisters called a reply in some form of elvish, making their father smile.  
  
All eyes, then, turned to Emma. They were waiting for her to announce who she was and where she was from.  
  
"Do not worry about the child, Haldir. She is under my care," Legolas told the lead guard.  
  
"Is she of elven blood?" a guard called, pulling out a length of gray cloth.  
  
He meant to bind her eyes if she was not an elf.  
  
"She is of elven blood. She hails from Mirkwood," Legolas replied.  
  
The guard returned the length of cloth to his quiver.  
  
"Dismount your horses. We will travel the rest of the way on foot," the lead guard-identified by Legolas as Haldir- ordered.  
  
The riders dismounted, again with Legolas helping Emma off of his steed. The horses were left in the care of two of the guards.  
  
"Follow me," Haldir ordered.  
  
The group began to walk along the path.  
  
Emma tried not to lag behind but she was soon outstripped by the other elves who knew the woods better than she did. It didn't help that she kept glancing around at the forest around her.  
  
She had never seen such a beautiful and vibrant forest. As they ventured further and further, she felt the need to be very, very quiet. The shimmer she had perceived earlier seemed to be increasing.  
  
Legolas looked around him. Emma had started out walking next to him. Now she was no where to be found. He glanced around and found her straggling behind the group.  
  
"One moment, please," he said to Haldir.  
  
The gray clad elf nodded and Legolas ran the length of the group to where Emma wandered.  
  
"I know these woods are beautiful. You must keep up, though. I do not think your mother would ever forgive me if I were to lose you," Legolas told Emma.  
  
"I'm sorry but you guys are moving really fast. I can't keep up," Emma whispered, apologetically.  
  
Legolas shook his head, remembering that Emma knew very little about the skills she possessed as an elf.  
  
"You can keep up, Emma. It is very easy for an elf," Legolas explained.  
  
"How so?" she asked.  
  
"I will explain some other time. We must keep going. I wish to speak to the Lady of the Woods as soon as possible," Legolas replied.  
  
Emma looked hurt; she did not like being left in the dark even though the people she danced with often left her there,  
  
Legolas saw her expression change from wonder to hurt. He took her hand and led her back up the path.  
  
"If I lag behind, just tug me along," she told Legolas as he took her hand.  
  
Legolas smiled but said nothing.  
  
Emma got very quiet again. The woods, themselves, seemed to emit music. It reminded her of one of the pieces they were using for her ballet. It was unearthly but melodic.  
  
"Do you hear that, Emma?" Legolas asked, giving her hand a soft tug to remind her to keep moving.  
  
Emma nodded, not wanting to disturb the woods.  
  
"Those are elves singing, passing along the news of our arrival," Legolas explained.  
  
Emma, unable to understand what the elves were saying, decided to take Legolas's word for it.  
  
The group continued to walk until they reached what appeared to be the center of the woods. Then they climbed. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred stairs passed before Emma lost count. They wound up a tall tree until they left off at a stage of some kind.  
  
The stage seemed to be bathed in light, two figures appeared to be either coming out of the light or radiating the light themselves. They were tall, far taller then Emma, and clad in silver and white.  
  
Following the example of the others around her, Emma gave her full attention to the stage. She wanted to ask someone about the two elves in front of her but she decided that it might be rude if she did.  
  
The male elf dismissed the guards with a simple gesture. Wiggy left with the guards that were heading off the eastern edge of the platform. The two sisters followed Haldir---whom Emma figured was their father---off the western edge of the platform.  
  
"It had been a very long time since I last had the pleasure of speaking to you, Prince Legolas. I hope I find you well," the female elf said.  
  
"I am well, Lady Galadriel, and I am very glad to be under the eaves of your fair woods again," Legolas replied, formally.  
  
"You come with a question from your father. Am I correct?" the female elf questioned.  
  
"I do, ma'am. I have come to look in your mirror, with your permission of course," Legolas answered.  
  
"Come," Galadriel said, gesturing for Legolas and Emma to follow.  
  
Emma followed Legolas across the stage and through another opening. After a few moments, she saw that they were headed for some kind of sunken in clearing.  
  
"I'm confused, Legolas. Who is this lady and what about a mirror? Is she going to do something like what you did with the mirrors back at my dancing school?" Emma asked in a hurried whisper.  
  
Legolas smiled down at the elfling holding fast to his hand.  
  
"You fit in so well here, that I forgot you were not raised here. That is the Lady Galadriel, one of the oldest elves in Middle Earth. She and her husband, Lord Celeborn have ruled these woods for several ages. As for her mirror, it is somewhat like what I did at your dance studio. In this case, we may see the past, present, and the possible future. It may help us figure out to whom you belong," Legolas explained.  
  
Emma nodded her understanding as Galadriel turned to look at them.  
  
The group continued to walk further and further down until they, finally reached the clearing.  
  
Expecting something very different, Emma was surprised to see an ornate looking basin in the center of the clearing and a small man-made waterfall off to one side.  
  
Legolas guided Emma toward the basin while Galadriel, picking up a silver pitcher, went over to the waterfall and scooped up some of the clear liquid. She joined them at the basin.  
  
"You bring me an elven maiden dressed in male clothing," she said, matter of factly.  
  
"I do, Lady Galadriel. We believe that she is the lost elf of recent legend," Legolas replied.  
  
"We shall see. A word of caution, Prince of Mirkwood, stay near the child. There maybe some things you do not want her to see," Galadriel intoned as she poured the contents of the pitcher into the basin. 


	20. Lo Specchio

AN: The song mentioned in this chapter is "Take a Picture" by Filter. No one is singing it in the chapter. It's just there to add color.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma followed Legolas's lead, staring into the basin. She was unsure, though, of what was suppose to happen next.  
  
She was shocked when an image appeared in the water of the basin. She could not place the image but Legolas could. He knew the image very well.  
  
It was the day his mother had passed.  
  
*Awake on my airplane  
  
Awake on my airplane  
  
My skin is bear  
  
My skin is theirs*  
  
That image was replaced, moments later, by a more recent image. Legolas saw his father sitting on his throne talking to a woman who looked remarkably like his mother. He recognized the woman as one of his mother's handmaidens.  
  
*Awake on my airplane  
  
Awake on my airplane  
  
My skin is bare  
  
My skin is theirs*  
  
He saw his father and this woman grow closer and closer over time. Throwing his hands over Emma's eyes, Legolas saw the two of them in bed together.  
  
*I feel like a newborn  
  
And I feel like a newborn  
  
Awake on my airplane  
  
Awake on my airplane  
  
I feel so real*  
  
He watched as his father sent to woman and her family away. From what he gathered, they were to go to the Gray Havens and sail west.  
  
*Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Yeah*  
  
As Legolas watched the group leave, he understood his father's reasoning for making them leave. The elven woman was pregnant with his father's child.  
  
*I don't believe in  
  
I don't believe in  
  
In your sanctity  
  
Your privacy*  
  
He saw the group undertake the long journey from Mirkwood to the Gray Havens, slowed by the woman's condition.  
  
*I don't believe in  
  
I don't believe in  
  
Sanctity  
  
A hypocrisy*  
  
They group never made it across the sea. They were attacked by a wandering band of orcs, and were all killed. The imaged moved to the woman, lying in the high underbrush.  
  
*Could everyone agree that  
  
No one should be left alone  
  
Could everyone agree that  
  
They should not be left alone yeah*  
  
From what he could see, the woman had just given birth. She silenced the bawling elfling and hid it in a very large flowering bush. She was discovered soon after and killed.  
  
*And I feel like a newborn  
  
And I feel like a newborn  
  
Kicking and screaming*  
  
Sometime later, a red haired man wearing a odd looking robe passed through the area. He buried the dead and discovered the child in the bush. Pulling out a small stick, he transformed a rock and a large leaf into a blanket and basket.  
  
*Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Yeah*  
  
He watched as the man opened some kind of light filled area in a tree and take the child through this area.  
  
*Hey dad what do you think about your son now  
  
Ah hey dad what do you think about your son now*  
  
The image of the armored woman appeared in the mirror just before it went dark.  
  
*Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Could you take my picture  
  
'Cuz I won't remember  
  
Yeah*  
  
(AN: I know that I'm seriously messing with Lord of the Rings Cannon. I understand that I must be breaking a huge number of rules. Please forgive me since I am just doing this for fun and to pass the time between classes at school.) 


	21. Le Reazioni

AN: Well, it's just 1:15 AM so I'm actually updating earlier! Anyway, I'm glad to see all of you great reviewers didn't hang me for my vision. I was afraid of that you guys would! I appreciate all your feedback. Please keep it coming!  
  
Elleiadrieal: The identity of the armored woman will be revealed in time. Legolas's reaction in coming up soon. Thanks for the compliment.  
  
Lomiothiel: I know I'm breaking a lot of rules and I really don't intend on making a habit of it. Thranduil isn't a very nice person, look how he treated the dwarves in The Hobbit. Thanks for the compliment and thanks for the two reviews!  
  
kurleyhawk2: Well, we shall soon get a full explanation of what Emma is very soon! Thanks, as usual, for your review!  
  
PixiePea000: All I can say is that Shannon is important. I like cliffhangers, makes you think! Anyway, thanks! By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Littlesaiyangirl: Thanks for both the review and the compliment.  
  
*words*---indicate something being sung. (This time the song actually gets involved. I don't own the song either. It's "Music Box" by Mariah Carey.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma stared at the darkened pool for what felt like an eternity. The images she had seen, before Legolas covered her eyes, were still swirling around in her mind. She didn't understand what she was supposed to have gotten out of them or how the images were going to help figure out to whom she belonged. All she recognized was Thranduil.  
  
Looking over at Legolas, it appeared to Emma that he had some idea of what those images alluded to. He seemed to be deep in though. His gaze had a distant look, his mind back in Mirkwood.  
  
The elf-woman said something aloud in her own language. As if by magic, her husband appeared, walking regally down the stairs that lead into the area. The two conversed quickly in the same elvish Emma had heard Fire and Ice use.  
  
Galadriel turned to Emma and said, "Celeborn, will take you to your chambers and see to it that you are properly dressed and fed. I must speak with the prince in private."  
  
"But---but," Emma sputtered, filling with apprehension.  
  
She didn't want to go with an else she didn't know, didn't trust. Instead, he was hoping she could stay with Legolas and he could, maybe, explain to her what she had just witnessed.  
  
"Emma," Legolas said, turning to the skittish elf, "Celeborn will not harm you. You can trust him. I will meet you as soon as I am done here."  
  
"Are you sure?" Emma asked, in a smallish voice.  
  
"I am very sure, little elf," Legolas confirmed.  
  
With that assurance in mind, Emma allowed Celeborn to lead her away from Legolas and Galadriel.  
  
"You looked puzzled, Prince Legolas? Why is that?" Galadriel asked when her husband and Emma were far enough away to be out of ear shot.  
  
"I am not sure I understand what I saw," Legolas replied, his voice belling his confusion.  
  
"Please, explain what you mean," the ancient elf woman questioned.  
  
Legolas, too confused to mind his manners, sat down on one of the steps that lead into the sunken area. She placed his head in his hands, as if trying to sort the thoughts in his head. He sat that way for handful of moments, formulating a response that made some sense.  
  
"I understand that my father was with another---a handmaiden of my mother's though I can not recall her name all I can recall is that she and my mother were often mistaken for sisters so alike they were in appearance," Legolas started.  
  
"That is correct," Galadriel confirmed, "Her name is lost to time. The only elves to remember it would be your mother and father, though I do not think he would tell it to you."  
  
Legolas nodded his understanding. He did not even want to begin to think about his father. The range of emotions he was experiencing, when it came to his father, seemed to range from total and utter anger---anger at the fact his father could betray his mother, the fact he appeared to knowingly endanger the life of a child---to a stinging kind of hurt, almost a feeling of betrayal.  
  
Shaking off thoughts of his father, he returned to the matter at hand.  
  
"With this woman, my father sired another child but sent the woman and her family away before the child was born. All were killed, save this child," he surmised.  
  
Galadriel nodded, affirming that his summary was correct.  
  
"You appear to understand much of what you say," she, simply, stated.  
  
"There are questions that plague my mind, though. Am I correct in assuming that the child is Emma? If it is, what does that make her?" Legolas asked, questions being asked as quickly as rain falls in a thunderstorm.  
  
The ancient elf paused for a moment, considering the prince's questions and the weight of the knowledge she was about to bestow upon him.  
  
"Your assumptions are correct. The child you saw was a very young Emma. To you, she is your half-sister. What she is to become to your father's kingdom is entirely your choice," she announced with a quite strength.  
  
Legolas was stunned and made no motion to hide that fact. He knew that he and Emma looked alike and could be related though some strange twist of fate. Never did he imagine that they shared a parent that he had just gone from being the sole son of the king to a significantly older brother.  
  
"What do you mean when you say that it is up to me to decide what she to become to my father's kingdom?" Legolas questioned, confused.  
  
"You understand that your father, upon his finding out of this information, will decide that she is simply an illegitimate child of the court. You, my young prince, must decide what title she gets. Deny her and she becomes another elf in your father's kingdom or you can accept her and allow her the title of Princess. Mind you that, if you accept her, you will be sharing title and inheritance with her," the ancient elf explained.  
  
She, then, added, "You must decided now for it will determine the course of your journey."  
  
Legolas sighed, falling under the weight of such a massive decision and the number of questions he wanted to ask. He knew how his father was going to react. He prided himself on not being like his father. With a somewhat wicked smile, he made the decision that he knew would, somewhat, avenge the wrong his father committed against the memory of his mother. It was the decision he felt was right, for both him and his newly found baby sister.  
  
"I have decided to accept her as a princess. It is only fair to her and to the memory of my mother. I still have questions, Lady Galadriel, about the armored woman and the red haired man" Legolas announced.  
  
"Take the child to see the king. Your answers will be found there," she replied, turning away from Legolas---an indication that the conversation was over.  
  
At his behest, a guard came and to the prince to where he and Emma would be spending the night. Legolas entered and found Emma sitting against the wall, knees pulled into her chest. She was staring out at the horizon.  
  
Without so much as a sound, he sat himself next to the child.  
  
"It is a lovely view. Do you want to talk?" Legolas commented, trying to sound casual and failing slightly.  
  
"I'm confused, Legolas," Emma, slowly said, "What just happened? What did I see?"  
  
"You did not understand what you saw in the mirror?" the elf responded.  
  
Emma nodded her head and blurted, "The only thing I think I recognized was your father."  
  
Legolas noticed that Emma had begun to shiver, since the night had turned chilly, and he threw his cloak around her shoulders. She smiled her thanks, wrapping it around her.  
  
"My father did play a large part of what you saw, Emma," Legolas explained, "In short, after my mother passed; my father became involved with one of my mother's handmaidens. With this woman, my father sired another child. She was sent away to pass over the sea but she was killed along the way. Before she was killed, though, she gave birth to a baby girl. That baby was you, Emma, making you Princess of Mirkwood and my sister."  
  
Emma sat silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. She was princess and the elf sitting next to her was her brother. The cruel elf who had threatened to send her parents away was her father. Her real mother was killed because her real father didn't want her around. Jumbled up feelings and questions ran through her head.  
  
"How can that be true? You said you didn't think we were related," Emma, managed, to express.  
  
"I did not know about this; believe that much to be true. That is the past, anyway. What matters now is what we do together. I have many years to make up for and there is much I would like to show you," Legolas replied, honesty tingeing his voice.  
  
Emma was still in shock. Moments ago, she was an orphan with two great adoptive parents. Now she was being asked to understand that she had, at least, a brother and a father and that she was a princess.  
  
"What about that red-headed guy? Or the lady in the funny armor? Who were they?" she babbled.  
  
"I do not know but we will seek out someone who does. He lives just beyond those trees," Legolas replied, pointing to a spot far on the horizon.  
  
The two elves sat in silence, each still working through what they were being asked-nay forced-to accept.  
  
"Legolas," Emma said, breaking the oppressive silence,"back on the path here you promised to tell me why it was easy for me to keep up with you in the woods."  
  
Legolas gave a small laugh.  
  
"You know very little about your own nature but that is not your fault. You believed that you were a child or the race of me. We are like humans, as you call them, in many ways. We can appear to be very much like them, especially when you look at a human child and an elven child younger than you," Legolas started.  
  
Emma scooted over so that she was sitting right up against her brother. Figuring that she was doing this because she was still cold, Legolas put his arm around her, pulling her into a half-hug of sorts.  
  
"Aside from some of the more obvious physical differences, like the pointed ears, we are far more graceful and swifter than most humans. That is why we are able to move with such speed through the trees. We also move soundlessly. I am sure you noticed that when you walked, you made no sound. We are also immortal," Legolas concluded.  
  
"Immortal? Didn't you say your mother died? Was she human, then?" Emma questioned.  
  
"She was not mortal---though elves can marry and produce children with mortals. Illness and age do not affect us but we can be killed or waste away from sorrow," Legolas explained.  
  
He, then, added, "My mother was killed by the spiders in Mirkwood."  
  
"I'm sorry," Emma said, quietly.  
  
"It was not your fault. On to happier subjects, little sister, may I ask a favor of you?" Legolas asked.  
  
The use of the phrase "little sister" stunned her for a moment but she recovered and replied, "Of course, big brother."  
  
Legolas smiled, warmly, and asked, "Can you dance for me? I heard you dance alone in one class."  
  
Emma turned red. It was true that she took private lessons with Spiro and performed one private act in the studio's show.  
  
"I could. I guess," she answered.  
  
"I would like that very much," Legolas said, allowing Emma to shuck off his cloak and stand up.  
  
A wealth of dances crossed her mind. She had done so many different ballets. One stuck out in her mind as being very appropriate for this moment---the first private she had ever done.  
  
She remembered it like it was yesterday. The costume was a mint green tutu with a mint green and purple corset on the top. She had her hair in a bun crowned with three purple flowers. Pink, seamed tights were on her legs and shiny pink Pointe shoes, with the familiar ribbons, were on her feet. She was supposed to be a music box dancer come to life. She had been so nervous before taking the stage; afraid that she was going to make a fool out of herself. Her music cued and she went out there and let the music take over. It was over before she knew it. All she could recall was that it was just her and the music, no audience watching her, no fancy lighting, no nothing.  
  
"This dance was called Music Box Dancer," she explained.  
  
As she stood in a "B+" position, normal preparation for many of her dances, she began to softly sing the lyrics of the song she had danced to.  
  
With the tune in her head and words audible she began to dance, fist stiff and jerky, just like a doll, then more fluid and refined, like a ballerina was suppose to look.  
  
*When I am lost  
  
you shine a light for me and set me free  
  
When I am low  
  
You wash away my tears  
  
And take me through  
  
The loneliness  
  
And emptiness  
  
Through the darkest night  
  
Somehow I survive  
  
Through it all  
  
When you tell me I'm the only one you need  
  
Sweet and tenderly  
  
And your love  
  
Breaks away the clouds surrounding me  
  
All I have I want to give to thee  
  
If I should fall  
  
Your love is strong enough to lift me up  
  
If I'm afraid  
  
You chase away my fears  
  
And take me to  
  
A brighter place  
  
Beyond the rain  
  
And I feel alright  
  
Because you're by my side  
  
Through it all  
  
When you tell me I'm the only one you need  
  
Sweet and tenderly  
  
And your love  
  
Breaks away the clouds surrounding me  
  
All I have I want to give to thee  
  
You take me through  
  
The loneliness and the emptiness  
  
And I feel alright  
  
'Cause you're by my side  
  
Through it all  
  
You tell me I'm the only one you need  
  
Sweet and tenderly  
  
And your love  
  
Just breaks away the clouds surrounding me  
  
And baby all I have I want to give to thee  
  
Want to give you all of my love  
  
Now and forever my love  
  
All I have I want to give to thee*  
  
She finished on her knees, arms appearing to cradle a baby.  
  
"That was beautiful," Legolas commented.  
  
Emma crept back over and sat next to him, wrapping herself in his cloak. He placed his arm around her again.  
  
"Thanks," she replied, "that was the very first private I ever performed."  
  
"It was wonderful. I must also ask you about your name. Names are very important here. Where did yours come from?" Legolas asked.  
  
Emma though for a moment, trying to remember what she had been told as a young child.  
  
"My mom told me that she named me Emma because it was a combination of my grandmother's first names-Emily and Mallory. Take the first two letters of each and you get my name," she explained.  
  
"You mother is very clever," Legolas commented.  
  
"It's funny," Emma said, her voice serious, "before you came up here, I was thinking about how this is the furthest I've ever been without a family member with me. I guess I can't think that anymore."  
  
Legolas laughed and commented, "We have had a very busy day, you and I. Now, get some rest. We are going to leave as early as possible tomorrow."  
  
Emma yawned, for the first time noticing how truly tired she was, and snuggled into Legolas's side. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep, dreaming of dancing. 


	22. Colloquio del ballo

AN: First off HAPPY BELATED HALLOWEEN! Secondly, I appreciate all reviews--- good or bad. I really and truly do. You reviewers make typing this story out worthwhile. I can't thank you enough!  
  
neo serenity: I appreciate your criticism of my story. I am trying my darndest not to make Emma into a Mary-Sue. Allow me to defend myself, please? I wrote Legolas being nice to her because he feels sorry for and, in general, people are nice to little kids. I never, ever said that she sang well. When doing a lyrical-type ballet, steps become associated with words. You need the words to dance. My ballet teacher sings when he dances and he doesn't sing well at all! As for the private dance and the fact she is very proficient at it, that also goes back to the way my ballet teacher trains my class. If you are not perfect both with in a private and group situation, he bites your head off and even humiliate you in front of the entire class. You learn to be perfect out of fear. That is one of the main reasons she is so very good at ballet.  
  
Kurelyhawk2: Busy week for me! I'm updating now though! Thanks for the compliment.  
  
PixiePea000: That ballet really was the first private I did, of course that was in the pre-Spiro era. I'm also not a Mariah Carey fan but it was the only private I could come up with. I'm glad you liked that chapter. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Elainor: Thanks for the review and I'm very glad you liked my twist. I can say, without spoiling the story, that Thranduil is going to be just a little angry when he finds out what he son has done.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The next morning, Emma woke feeling rather refreshed and content. She looked around and noticed that she was alone. She recalled falling asleep next to Legolas but not him leaving.  
  
"I wonder where everybody is," Emma mused, feeling slightly lonely.  
  
With nothing else to do, Emma began to stretch. Despite the differences in location, her stretch had not changed in the slightest. In fact, she had added more and more to it until it nearly resembled the stretches she undertook during her acrobatics class.  
  
The order was always the same. First, the butterfly stretch where, while sitting on the floor, the soles of both feet were pressed together. This caused the knees to bend, making the legs look like the wings of a butterfly. While holding her ankles, Emma leaned forward, flattening herself into an odd looking ball of sorts.  
  
Stretching her legs out in front of her, pointing her toes of course, and raising her arms above her head, Emma entered into the next stretch. She leaned forward, trying to grasp her ankles. This stretch, according to Spiro, was for the lower back.  
  
Next, she straddled her legs nearly one hundred and eighty degrees and stretched forward so that her stomach touched the ground. She repeated the front stretch a few more times and leaned to her right and left, locking her hands around her ankles. That was followed by right and left splits and tug of wars on both legs.  
  
The stretch ended with backbends. She stood up and raised both hands over her head. She, then, bent backwards until her hands rested on the floor and her back was in an arch. She pulled up from that position, satisfied with the cracking sounds her back had produced.  
  
As she went through the nearly automatic ritual of stretching, her mind went back to the previous night's events. The rational part of her mind wanted more proof, something tangible other than a strange image in a mirror. The other part of her mind wanted to believe. She had found something she had always wanted---a link to her actual family.  
  
"Even if my biological father isn't all that nice," she thought.  
  
So lost was she in her own thoughts that Emma failed to notice the other elf enter to room.  
  
As she pulled up from a backbend, Emma came face to face with Ice.  
  
Gone was the gray cloak she had seen Ice wearing, the elven ranger was in a simple white dress.  
  
"Please tell me you recall who I am, Emma," Ice said, coolly.  
  
"You're Ice, I think," Emma replied, cautiously.  
  
From the small sampling she had seen the previous evening, nearly all of the elves in this forest shared the same basic features---light hair and light eyes.  
  
"Correct, I was told so come get you," Ice said.  
  
Emma nodded and followed the elf out of the room and down the winding stairs that wrapped around the tree.  
  
They arrived at the base of the tree to find Fire and Legolas standing with two other elves. They were engaged in a very animated looking conversation.  
  
One of the elves was a head shorter then Legolas. His dark hair was trimmed up to the base of his neck and appeared to have some sort of odd ridged design on the left and right sides.  
  
The other elf was a very odd looking creature. He was tall, over a head taller than the elves he was speaking with. He stood with his chest puffed out a bit. Unlike every elf Emma had encountered, this creature had a mop of curly brown hair that reached to just below his shoulder blades.  
  
"Look who finally decided to join us," called Fire, when she spotted her sister.  
  
"Fire," Ice started, finishing the thought in elvish.  
  
The sisters began to argue, trading ideas, or insults, in their native tongue.  
  
"Good morning, Emma. Are you prepared to continue on?" Legolas asked, handing her what looked to be half of a giant cookie-like object.  
  
Emma took the cookie-like object and, cautiously, bit into it. It wasn't bad and she ate the rest with relish.  
  
"I guess so. By the way, I'm sorry I fell asleep on you last night. I didn't mean to," Emma replied.  
  
Her father---technically her adopted father---wasn't fond of people falling asleep on him. He claimed it invaded his personal space.  
  
"It is not a problem. It was quite cold last night and you are use to sleeping in those kinds of conditions," he stated.  
  
In an undertone, loud enough for just Emma to hear, he added, "Anyway, is that not what big brothers are for."  
  
Emma laughed and shrugged.  
  
"Can't say," she responded, "I never had a big brother."  
  
The two new elves, who had disappeared for a handful of moments, returned leading six horses with them. Emma recognized three of them---the ones belonging to Ice, Fire, and Legolas. The other three were a mystery. A dappled gray one, smaller then the others appeared to be for baggage.  
  
"Emma, may I introduce you to Mac and Goose. They will be riding with us the rest of the way," Legolas said.  
  
The two elves nodded their acknowledgement of her name. Mac, the shorter of the two, appeared to very antsy, as if he was quite anxious to get going. The taller of the two, the odd looking elf, was Goose. With his puffed out chest, it was easy to see from whence the moniker came.  
  
"The other two horses must belong to them," Emma surmised.  
  
"Will this be a long ride?" asked Fire.  
  
"We will not be riding the entire way there. I was given this odd device that will take us near enough to our location. We will ride from that point on," Legolas explained.  
  
He fished a very large looking length of branch from the confines of his bag.  
  
"From what I have been told, each of us simply has to touch this object and we will be transported to our location," Legolas said.  
  
"What of our horses?" Goose asked, a bit of a "honk" to his voice.  
  
"I think if we hold tight to them, it will not be a problem," Legolas replied.  
  
"Let us get going. I want to go," Mac stated, dancing from foot to foot.  
  
Legolas held out the length of branch. Each elf placed a hand on it and, in an instant, they had disappeared.  
  
They reappeared in some kind of field. Emma wanted to look around for awhile but she was swept onto her brother's horse.  
  
Night had fallen, dark and starless, by the time the riders had stopped. A quick camp was set up and watches were drawn.  
  
"Do you have dancing here?" Emma asked Legolas.  
  
She was having problems falling asleep. He mind was still the playground of many questions.  
  
"Of course we do. Some are similar to what you would call waltzes," Legolas replied.  
  
Emma gave a small giggle, remembering something from one of her dances.  
  
"What is so funny, Emma?" Legolas questioned, catching the giggle.  
  
"I did a waltz once in this ballet called 'Evita.' It was our partnering section and I had to partner with Myra. It was to this really strange song called 'A Waltz for Eva and Che.'" Emma explained.  
  
"Why was it strange?" Legolas inquired.  
  
"Well, the song was really meant for a guy and girl so it looked really odd to have two girls in light blue and silver ballet dresses dancing to it. That ballet wasn't very good on stage. Rosemarie, she was the female lead that year and played Eva, was dropped by Spiro, who played this character called Che, a bunch of times during the dance. It was really bad and he was really upset with us," Emma said with a shudder.  
  
She remembered the screaming at when they came back to class that September.  
  
"He did some good ballets though," she added offhandedly.  
  
"Explain," Legolas ordered.  
  
"Yes please," Fire asked.  
  
She and her sister had been listening to the exchange about dancing for quite sometime.  
  
Emma took a deep breath and let it out. This was going to require a lot of words.  
  
"I was really young when Spiro took over the ballet training at the studio. I remember I used to be so scared of him, when I had him that first year. I use to come home crying ever week, telling my mom that he was mean to me and didn't like me. I even thought about quitting. It turned out he was treating me so harshly because he felt that was the only way to bring out whatever talent he thought I possessed. I even remember the first big ballet he taught us. It was called 'Glory' and it was about the Civil War--- that's a really big important war where I'm from. I remember my class, the Junior class, wore these long to the floor, blood red poofy, itchy ballet costumes with a red and white top. It was the first really good big ballet the studio ever did. The other ballet that sticks out for me was this one called 'Ode to Joy.' It was based on a piece of music by the same title. I was in the Senior class by then. That dance was so amazing because he combined the Junior and Senior classes so there were about thirty-five dancers on stage at once. My class wore these really pretty, velvety brown tutus with gold leaves coming down like a sash. The Junior class wore green. We were supposed to represent a forest---brown for the earth, green for the trees. Every part of that ballet had a name. There was the 'creation' and the 'destruction' spots in it, just to name a few. Spiro's the reason I stay at that awful place. He's too good to be there," Emma explained.  
  
"You will have to show us some of these dances someday," Ice said.  
  
"Actually is sounds kind of boring," Fire commented.  
  
"Fire," Ice warned.  
  
"I know, I know a good fonging is on the way," Fire retorted.  
  
"All that talk of ballet's made me tired," Emma commented.  
  
"Sleep then, we have a hard ride ahead of us," Legolas said.  
  
Emma nodded and, after a mumbled "good night," went to sleep.  
  
(AN: What Emma says about her Spiro is reflective of how I feel about my ballet teacher, also named Spiro. He is the greatest ballet teacher in the world even if he is a princess and a bigger diva sometimes then the other people I dance with. The dances I referenced in this chapter are all dances I've done with him. He's honestly the best ballet teacher I have ever had. What Emma said is my quiet way of thanking him because I'd never tell him myself. Which reminds me, I have ballet tomorrow!) 


	23. L'Alto Re

AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for all the reviews. It's always a pleasant surprise when I get them. I'm still generally shocked that people are actually reading this story of mine.  
  
Lomiothiel: Sorry, if I confused you. I was in a really dancer mood when I wrote that chapter. I promise that chapter was probably the most dance intense chapter I have. I sometimes forget that not everyone knows about that kind of stuff, silly mistake on my part. Anyway, thanks for the review and I'll get around to explaining the transporting thing soon.  
  
Lily: Thanks for the review and the compliment.  
  
TitanicHobbit: Ballet is always a good time. Spiro, my ballet teacher, is going through this Billy Joel phase so we spent most of the class dancing to "Uptown Girl and "In the Middle of the Night." I'm glad you like the references to "A Knight's Tale." I'll try to improve the dialogue between the characters. The chapter titles are Italian because I took three years of it in high school and I really like the language. Thanks for the review and the compliment.  
  
PixiePea000: Spiro, modest? Are we talking about the same princess/diva? Though he is more modest than the cow. By the by, GOLLUM!  
  
*words*---indicate something being sung. (This time the song actually gets involved. I don't own the song either. It's "Kiss From a Rose" by Seal.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma didn't remember waking up the next morning. She recalled motion of some kind, possibly the motion of a horse, but little else. She wasn't aware of how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or hours or days. All she recalled was a blur of greens and blues and browns.  
  
"What happened? Where are we?" she asked, a kind of sleepiness to her voice.  
  
"We are just outside of our destination," Mac replied, still looking antsy.  
  
Emma cracked her back and, upon getting up, asked "How long have we been riding?"  
  
"Several hours by my account," Legolas replied, "You were asleep most of the time, though."  
  
"I wasn't asleep the whole time. I was watching the world travel by and I think I got, what people back home call, highway hypnosis," she corrected.  
  
Watching the elves search their packs for a few moments, she piped up, "What day is it?"  
  
"It is the day after yesterday," Fire replied.  
  
Emma, inwardly, groaned. That answer didn't give her the information she wanted.  
  
"Ice, is there a stream or a spring near by?" Legolas called.  
  
Ice looked up from her rummaging through her pack and thought for a moment.  
  
"Aye, I think there is one just through those trees," she, finally, replied.  
  
"Can you and your lovely sister take Emma to go get cleaned up?" Legolas suggested.  
  
"We have to get cleaned up as well. Captain would be ill pleased if we came back looking like this," Ice replied, taking a ball of fabric from Legolas.  
  
She called Fire, who had been deep in conversation with Goose, over and the three female elves made their way through the trees.  
  
"Stick close, Emma," Ice ordered, adding a comment in elvish that Emma assumed was meant for her sister.  
  
Fire came up behind Emma, moving from her place at her sister's side.  
  
"So we do not lose you," she explained, some sarcasm seeping into her voice.  
  
Ice just shook her head and continued to lead the others through the dense trees.  
  
A short while later, the group reached a shallow stream.  
  
"Wash up, Emma. You are in no shape to meet royalty," Fire said.  
  
"Royalty?" Emma, simply, questioned.  
  
"Your brother is taking you to meet the king and queen of the city we approach," Fire explained, trotting a few paces down stream.  
  
"Put this on when you are ready," Ice added, handing Emma the bundle she had received from Legolas and trotting off after her sister.  
  
Emma looked at the bundle she was holding. It appeared to be a ball of some type of fabric. Shaking out the bundle, Emma was surprised to see that she was holding a dress. The dress appeared to be cut long on the bottom but the sleeves were cut short. It was a simple dark green color, nothing fancy about it.  
  
"Nice," she commented.  
  
She began to wash up in the icy cold water, trying not to think about what could possible be living I the water. When she was a Girl Scout, the troop always boiled the water they got from streams, rivers, and lakes just in case any disease carrying organisms resided in it.  
  
"It's too quiet here. I wonder where all the animals are," Emma mused as she began to get dressed.  
  
The woods she had visited in her Girl Scout days were always full of noise. From the singing of the birds to the sounds of buzzing insects to the growling of bears, there was always noise no matter what time of day or night.  
  
Brushing a wrinkle out of the dress, Emma noticed something watching her from the bushes across the water. At first, she thought it was some kind of small animal, like a fox or something to that effect. Creeping forward, finally noticing that she really didn't make a sound as she moved, she moved to get a better look at the animal.  
  
It was then that the creature turned and ran, making a terrible sound as it did. Emma did much the same thing, turning and calling for help.  
  
Ice and Fire, back in their familiar gray cloak, appeared on the bank next to Emma's clothing.  
  
"What is wrong?" Fire asked, sounding rather annoyed.  
  
Emma caught her breath and replied, "Something was watching me and, when I went to see what it was, it took off and made a really awful sound."  
  
The sisters looked around, as if they were expecting the creature to return.  
  
"Come; let us get back to camp. I do not think that these woods are safe," Ice announced, picking up Emma's clothing and handing them to the child.  
  
"We heard yelling. What happened?" Goose asked, when the three female elves returned to the camp.  
  
"Emma was startled by something in the woods," Fire quipped, pushing a wet braid off her shoulder.  
  
"Really, little elf? Did you see it?" Legolas questioned.  
  
Emma shook her head and replied, "It made some really terrible sounds, though."  
  
"What kinds of sounds?" Legolas prompted, motioning for Mac and Goose to come over with their mounts.  
  
Emma thought for a moment, trying her best to figure out how to best articulate the sounds the creature made. She cleared her throat and made an attempt at mimicking the creature's sounds.  
  
Upon hearing Emma's impression, Legolas announced, "We make for the city. It is not safe out here."  
  
Ice, Fire, Mac, and Goose mounted their horses in swift succession and began to fall into a formation of some type. Ice took point, being flanked by her sister on her right and Goose on her left. Mac brought up the rear guard.  
  
With the four elven rangers on their steeds, Emma noticed that Legolas stood with two horses. One was Arod, his mount, and the dappled gray horse that had been stripped of all its baggage.  
  
"Emma," Legolas, quickly, said, "you ride on your own into the city. This horse is yours."  
  
"I don't know how to ride," Emma reminded Legolas, backing away from the horse.  
  
Riding with her brother, an experienced rider was one thing but riding on her own was out of the question. She didn't even know where to begin, especially since the horse was bareback.  
  
"Emma, please do not pose a problem right now. Time is of the essence. He will not hurt you," Legolas said, physically lifting Emma up and placing her on the horse.  
  
"What am I suppose to do?" Emma called, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.  
  
Legolas whispered something to the horse and it moved behind Ice, next to Fire.  
  
"Hang on," was all he replied.  
  
Ice gave a command and the horses sped towards the city, Emma hanging off her mount's neck.  
  
Taking a back route that only Ice knew, the elves managed to by-pass all the check points leading up to the highest level of the city.  
  
When Emma finally looked up, she decided that they had reached a palace of some kind. The guards standing at the gate, wearing armor bearing some kind of tree and stars as well as strange helmets with wings, took one look at Legolas and waved them though.  
  
"How come we didn't get stopped?" Emma asked, trying to get her horse to slow down but not totally stop.  
  
A word in elvish from Goose slowed the horse for Emma.  
  
"I am friends with the royal family. The guards know me well enough to let me through," Legolas explained.  
  
"This is where the four of us take our leave. Farewell," Ice called.  
  
She and her three friends rode down a small path and disappeared from sight. They were off to meet their captain and receive their new assignments.  
  
Emma's horse followed Arod, stopping a few feet from the entrance to the palace proper.  
  
"This place is huge. It's like a castle in a fairy tale," Emma commented.  
  
Legolas laughed, smiling at his sister's comment. Looking around, he spied several guards coming from what ever duty they had been assigned. He called one of the guards, who unlike the others was wearing armor bearing some type of orange, blue and black symbol, over.  
  
"Do you know if the king is in?" he asked.  
  
The guard gave Legolas a puzzled look. A type of recognition passed over his face. It seemed he recognized Legolas at last.  
  
"I assume so, Master Elf. Do you wish to speak with him?" the guard replied.  
  
"I do. May I leave our horses with you?" he requested.  
  
"I do not see why you cannot. I will see that they are stabled with Captain's horses. Is that acceptable?" the guard suggested.  
  
"It is, Bass," Legolas replied, getting off his horse and lifting Emma off of hers, "A surprise awaits you when you go back to Captain."  
  
"I'm sure you can go right it," Bass said, sketching a bow and leaving with the two horses.  
  
"Is there anything I need to know while I'm here?" Emma asked in a hurried whisper.  
  
She wasn't sure if there were rules or regulations that she was suppose to follow. Where she was from, meeting kings and queens was something you didn't do unless you were the President or some other high ranking government official.  
  
"Do not speak unless you are spoken to or someone gives you leave to speak freely. You seem like you know how to mind your manners," Legolas replied.  
  
He watched Emma nod nervously, attempting to gauge her age in elven years. The child only knew her age as if she was of the race of men and the images he had seen in the mirror did little to help him create a time frame of events.  
  
Emma, meanwhile, was busy trying to take in all the sights and sounds around her. Somewhere in the distance a fountain gurgled and, to her, everything held some inherent beauty to it.  
  
The two elves entered the building only to find themselves in a vast empty room.  
  
"Where is everyone? I thought the guard said the king was supposed to be here," Emma asked, assuming that this vast room was the throne room.  
  
"He is here. Just not in this room," Legolas, knowingly, replied.  
  
He took Emma the length of the room, stopping in front of a side door just near the front of the room. He knocked three times, stopped, and knocked again. He must have done something correctly for someone replied in a very strange language.  
  
"Let us go," Legolas said, taking Emma by the hand and leading her through the large wooden door.  
  
Emma glanced around the smaller room. It was nicely decorated and seemed lived in. She understood why someone would rather be in this room than the cold, stony room she had just come from. At the front of the room sat two figures, a male and a female. Both wore crowns and regale looking robes. Emma could only assume that this couple was the king and queen Fire had alluded to.  
  
Legolas bowed and Emma followed suit, falling into a deep curtsey and thanking every lucky star that she had been taught how to correctly execute one in her ballet classes.  
  
The male dismissed the guards, who exited through the door Emma and Legolas had entered from.  
  
"Prince Legolas, it is very good to see you," the man said, in a very formal sounding voice.  
  
"Thank you, sir. I see that you and your wife are well," the Prince replied.  
  
"Who is your friend?" the woman inquired.  
  
Legolas was about to introduce Emma but decided to wait.  
  
"Emma," he asked in a whisper, "would you like to dance for my friends?"  
  
"I guess so," Emma replied, figuring it would be ride of her to say "no."  
  
Legolas backed off, leaving Emma in the center of the room and utterly puzzling the king and queen. 


	24. I'Alto Re, La Regina, Il Principe e La P...

AN: Well, this is a record! I'm updating again! Anyway, I'd like to thank all of you for your reviews. It really makes my day to get them, especially when you find out that next semester you have to have a professor you don't at all like, again. Such is life at a small college. It makes me happy to see people are taking time out to review my story. All of you are great!  
  
Lomiothiel: My younger sister would do something like that to me. As a matter of fact, she has but that's a different story. You'll get your answers in time. I will tell you that he asked her to dance because he figured that doing something as familiar as dancing would make her comfortable. Thanks, as usual, for your review.  
  
neo serenity: I'm trying my best to stay away from Mary-Sue type things. I only included the dance am I alluding to as a means of making a character comfortable in an awkward situation.  
  
PixiePea000: I would have continued if it wasn't inching dangerously close to 4AM. I'm sure my mom wouldn't have liked me waking her up at 4AM. Spiro is as Spiro does and I get to see him tomorrow. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
kender girl: Thanks! That was a very interesting review and I appreciate it!  
  
TitanicHobbit: I'm just glad you reviewed. I've never seen The Matrix and my Storytelling: Then and Now class is going to see the third one. I have to watch the first two because everyone is saying I'll be lost if I don't.  
  
kurleyhawk2: She'll dance. As always, I appreciate your review.   
  
*words*---indicate something being sung. (This time the song actually gets involved. I don't own the song either. It's "Kiss From a Rose" by Seal.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma's mind became a land of a thousand dances. Private ballets, company ballets, tap dances, jazz dances, and acrobatic routines swirled around in her head. She eliminated any tap dance because, without her tap shoes, it would look sort of odd. The floor looked far too hard to execute any acrobatic routine. It would hurt like nobody's business if she fell. She didn't feel comfortable doing a jazz dance and a company ballet wouldn't work because of all the cannons and partnering. All she was left with was her private ballets.  
  
With the narrow list, Emma began to consider her choices. For some reason, the one dance that stuck out in her mind was one of her more recent dances. She, mentally, giggled. This private had been one of her favorites because the costume fit the music so well.  
  
The costume had a copper, body suit like bodice. Attached at the waist was a knee length, layered ballet skirt. Pink tights were on her legs and, much to her delight, black Pointe shoes-complete with black elastic and ribbons- were on her feet. Her hair was up in a tight ballet bun, around which sat a copper colored scrunchie. She felt she looked very much like a seal of some kind which was ironic because she was dancing to Seal's "Kiss from a Rose."  
  
She started to dancing, singing the song to herself, because the words dictated the motions of dance.  
  
All of a sudden, the king called, "Stop!  
  
Emma stopped, mid-step, afraid she had done something wrong or offensive.  
  
"Are you singing?" he asked.  
  
Emma nodded and, quietly, answered, "I'm sorry if I offended you, sir."  
  
She knew her singing voice was not all that great having been told so during a rehearsal for a tap dance where the class had to sing a few bars of an old song. She rarely ever sang, preferring to express herself through dance.  
  
"I did not, child. Please start again and sing for all of us to hear," he ordered Emma.  
  
Emma wanted to give the king a skeptical look but decide against it. That might be rude.  
  
She began again, this dancing starting with a walking step.  
  
*There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea.  
  
You became the light on the dark side of me.  
  
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.  
  
But did you know,  
  
That when it snows,  
  
My eyes become large and  
  
The light that you shine can be seen.  
  
Baby,  
  
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.  
  
Ooh,  
  
The more I get of you,  
  
Stranger it feels, yeah.  
  
And now that your rose is in bloom.  
  
A light hits the gloom on the grey.  
  
There is so much a man can tell you,  
  
So much he can say.  
  
You remain,  
  
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby  
  
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.  
  
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?  
  
But did you know,  
  
That when it snows,  
  
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.  
  
Baby,  
  
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.  
  
Ooh, the more I get of you  
  
Stranger it feels, yeah  
  
Now that your rose is in bloom.  
  
A light hits the gloom on the grey,  
  
I've been kissed by a rose on the grey,  
  
I've been kissed by a rose  
  
I've been kissed by a rose on the grey,  
  
...And if I should fall along the way  
  
I've been kissed by a rose  
  
...been kissed by a rose on the grey.  
  
There is so much a man can tell you,  
  
So much he can say.  
  
You remain  
  
My power, my pleasure, my pain.  
  
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah  
  
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.  
  
But did you know,  
  
That when it snows,  
  
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.  
  
Baby,  
  
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.  
  
Ooh, the more I get of you  
  
Stranger it feels, yeah  
  
Now that your rose is in bloom,  
  
A light hits the gloom on the grey.  
  
Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey  
  
Ooh, the more I get of you  
  
Stranger it feels, yeah  
  
And now that your rose is in bloom  
  
A light hits the gloom on the grey  
  
Now that your rose is in bloom,  
  
A light hits the gloom on the gray.*  
  
The dance ended with a series of leaps that lead to a pose on the floor. Unlike the other dance she had preformed, this one was far more intricate with many jumps and complex chains of steps.  
  
With a small bow, Emma scurried off to her brother's side.  
  
"That was wonderful, little elf. You are quite the talented dancer," the king told Emma, after watching her scurry away.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Emma replied, quietly.  
  
The king then turned to Legolas.  
  
"I do not believe you came all this way to show us a new dancing girl. Who is this little elf?" he questioned the prince.  
  
"Her name is Emma," Legolas started, "and she is my sister."  
  
"Your sister! I did not know you had a sister," the queen exclaimed, incredulously.  
  
"Neither did I, my friend. That is, up until a few days ago. She is the 'lost elf' of recent myth," the prince replied.  
  
"Will you two join us in a meal? We can discuss this more fully on full stomachs," the king suggested.  
  
"Of course we would," Legolas replied.  
  
The woman got up and said something to the man in a strange language. The king replied to her in kind, using the same language.  
  
She turned to Legolas and asked, "May I take the child to get cleaned up and properly dressed?"  
  
"I do not see why not," Legolas answered.  
  
Emma did not budge. She just stood stock still and stared. This place, to her, seemed awfully large and she was afraid that, if she left, she was going to get lost and never find her way back.  
  
Legolas turned to Emma, taking not of the half frightened expression on her face.  
  
"Go on, Emma," he urged, "she will not hurt you."  
  
Nervously, Emma followed the woman out of the room. She was nearly running to keep up with her strides. The woman took not and slowed down, allowing the child to catch up.  
  
The two walked in silence for a while, the woman glancing at Emma with a sad smile every so often. Emma glanced around the corridors, watching everything with rapt interest.  
  
The older woman broke the silence by commenting, "You dance very well, little elf. How long have you been dancing?"  
  
"Nearly my whole life, this will be my tenth year, ma'am," she answered.  
  
"Please do not call me ma'am. My name is Arwen. What shall I call you?" the other woman said with a laugh.  
  
"Just Emma, no title or anything," the child answered.  
  
"Not even princess?" the queen questioned, looking the young elf over.  
  
"Especially not that," Emma, firmly, responded.  
  
"Emma, how old are you?" the queen asked, suddenly.  
  
"I'm twelve years old where I'm from. I'll be thirteen soon. Is it different here?" Emma replied.  
  
"Somewhat, since elves age more slowly than humans and some one I know believes that time here passes differently than time in his world," Arwen explained.  
  
"Are you an elf? You have pointed ears like me and my brother," Emma inquired.  
  
Arwen gave Emma yet another sad smile. Seeing this somewhat confused, somewhat happy elfling was not making her feel very guilty.  
  
"I was once an elf but I chose to be mortal, like my husband," she replied.  
  
"What can call your husband?" Emma asked, thoroughly enjoying having all her questions answered.  
  
"Aragorn, that is his right name," answered the older woman.  
  
"Not your highness or anything like that?" Emma probed.  
  
The older woman shook her head and lead Emma into a large room.  
  
Meanwhile, Legolas and Aragorn sat in the other room. Legolas had seated himself on the stairs leading up to where Aragorn sat. He sat at a diagonal to the human's throne.  
  
"She is not your full sister is she?" Aragorn questioned the seated elf.  
  
He recalled Legolas telling him that his mother had been killed when he was but a child.  
  
"No, she is not. We share a father but not a mother," Legolas confirmed.  
  
"You are very fond of her, though," the king guessed from watching the small sampling of interactions between brother and sister.  
  
"I do but in an almost protective way," the elf explained.  
  
"The same way the twins feel about their sister. It is only natural. You look puzzled, my friend. What is wrong?" the king requested to know.  
  
"Many things about Emma's existence perplex me. One of the things I would like to know is if my father was aware of her existence, so to speak, before he sent her mother away," Legolas admitted.  
  
A bell tolled in the distance.  
  
"Come, I do believe you will find answers over a good meal," Aragorn said, getting up.  
  
The two men walked to an adjacent room where a large table had been set. No sooner had they sat down, then the two females entered the room. Legolas recognized Arwen but not her small companion.  
  
Then it hit him. Her companion was Emma.  
  
The young elf was dressed in a long powder blue dress with long, sheer blue sleeves. The straps were trimmed in tiny pink flowers and the same flowers were weaved into the intricate braid that had been done in Emma's hair.  
  
The two females sat at the table, respective males holding their chairs out for them.  
  
"You look very nice," Legolas whispered to Emma, making her turn slightly pink.  
  
"My dad said I clean up well," she replied with a giggle.  
  
"Yes, well," Legolas started, slightly confused.  
  
"Not your dad. My dad, you know, Mitchell," Emma explained.  
  
Several trays of food were brought it and the quartet around the table began to eat. Unsure of what much of the food was, Emma took small portions of what she could recognize. This made it look like she was eating very little.  
  
"So, tell us about how you came across Emma," Aragorn requested.  
  
Legolas launched into an explanation, discussing everything from his mission to retrieve her to the images in the mirrors at the dance studio to Galadriel's Mirror in Lothlorien. Emma interjected where she could, adding tiny details.  
  
"There are only two things I do not understand---this red-haired person or this woman in armor," Legolas finished.  
  
"I do believe I have an answer for you," Arwen started. 


	25. Dica ad una Storia

AN: I'm so sorry for not updating a lot this week, as I usually do. I had the worst week ever: a Dance History test, a Genetics exam, a paper due for my Storytelling class, and I had to crash course myself on The Matrix because my Storytelling professor is making us see the third one as part of our homework. I must say I liked the first one a lot---just couldn't stop thinking "Agent Smith=Elrond."  
  
Pidgeypotatoe: I'm glad you liked the story but Ice, Fire and the like are only nicknames. Ice's given name, as given in another chapter is, Litsetaure. Fire's given name, as given in the same chapter, is Marille. The others do have given names but I haven't given them yet.  
  
Lomiothiel: Sorry, I'm really fond of the cliffhanger. I'm glad you liked the chapter!  
  
lulu bell: Thanks for the two reviews! There'll be some jazz dancing toward the end of the story but I feel more comfortable writing about ballet. I've been dancing ballet for 17 years now. I'll translate all the chapter titles at the end of the story. They're in Italian.  
  
PixiePea000: Actually, she knows our red headed friend. Met him quite a few times and he got her out of a rough spot. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
TitanicHobbit: The reason I used that song is because it was one of my favorite ballet privates I ever did. It wasn't because you're stupid, I just didn't drop any hints. Thanks for the review!  
  
*words*---indicate something being sung. (This time the song actually gets involved. I don't own the song either. It's "Somewhere Out There" From the movie "An American Tale.")  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Arwen took a deep breath and let it out. There was much to be told about this red-headed man.  
  
"This red-headed man, did he have closed cropped hair and was clad in a dark gray or black robe?" Arwen asked.  
  
Legolas thought for a moment, calling up a mental image of the red-headed wizard.  
  
"I do believe so. Why? Do you know him?" Legolas asked.  
  
"His name is Patrick Dolan. He is a friend to my father He comes from this wizarding world, as he calls it, and was trained at a school known as Hogwarts. He was the one who brought us the items used to transport beings over great distances over short periods of time---Portkeys he called them. He has the strange ability to cross into and out off our world," Arwen explained.  
  
"How can this be?" Legolas questioned.  
  
Arwen gave him a sympathizing look. She knew what it was like to be given a great deal of information in a very short span of time. Couples that with the fact Patrick's abilities were quite disconcerting when one was first told about them and confusion was the likely outcome.  
  
"He claims to be something called a Gatekeeper. He can cross these gates or portals, as he is fond of calling them, into our world from his own. It is a very strange concept to think about at first but it makes very good sense when you meet Patrick. He is quite and unusual, and helpful, being," Arwen answered.  
  
Aragorn shared a confused glance with his elven friend. In all the years he had grown up in the elven sanctuary of Rivendell, he had never seen hide nor hair of this Patrick person. He was sure he had head about him in passing but that was about it.  
  
"What about this lady in armor?" Legolas asked, "Is she somehow related to this Patrick character?"  
  
Arwen shook her head.  
  
"Patrick has no ties to Middle Earth, save his title as Gatekeeper. This woman does not seem to be something from his world," she answered.  
  
Aragorn stepped in, relieving his wife from the job of answering the elven prince's questions.  
  
"Do you remember anything, anything at all about this lady? Perhaps something about her armor," Aragorn prompted.  
  
To his great surprise, it was Emma not Legolas who spoke up. The elven princess had been sitting and listening to his wife's explanation. She seemed to be drinking the entire story in, processing it in her own way.  
  
"I do," Emma offered, "there was something about her shield that stuck out in my mind."  
  
"What was that?" Aragorn questioned, carefully, not wanting to scare the young elf off.  
  
Emma thought for a moment, biting her lip as she did so. She recalled that the image on the shield was akin to the Daisy flower she had worn on the front of her Daisy Girl Scout Tunic, back when she was a Girl Scout. Of course, they knew nothing about Girl Scouts here. She would have to find other ways to get her point across.  
  
"It looked like a daisy flower in shape but not in color. There were six petals; each one was a different color. I think they were light green, purple, blue, pink, yellow, and white. The center was split in half. The top was red, the bottom was white. The rest of the shield was gold," Emma explained, sketching the vague shape of a daisy on the table as she spoke.  
  
Aragorn was quite for a moment, his mind wandering through all the lore he had learned and all the armor he had seen in his days as both ranger and king. His armory was full of well preserved specimens of ancient armor, though none bore the type of shield Emma was referring to.  
  
"If it helps any, the rest of the armor was in the style of the ancient Númenóreans," Legolas added.  
  
A few more moments passed, the silence becoming tense and oppressive. Everything from the creak of a chair to the footsteps in the hall seemed to be ten times louder. Emma tried not to breathe for fear she'd disturb the king's thought processes.  
  
"There was a story from very long ago. It is seldom spoken of any longer for many feel it was false, something created by the line of Stewards perhaps. It spoke of a female warrior whose sprit was allowed to return to life but not in Middle Earth. Are you familiar with this tale?" Aragorn, finally, spoke.  
  
"I believe I have heard of this tale, my friend," Legolas confirmed.  
  
He had heard the story, told as folklore, in his youth. It was an interesting story and, if one looked deep enough, one could find a ring of facts in it. Most myths, though, have some basis in fact and his questions about the story were usually written off by his tutors.  
  
"I'm not!" Emma piped up, "What's it about?"  
  
Aragorn laughed at the young elf's eagerness to learn something new.  
  
"I will tell you the short version of the tale for the full version would take many nights to explain. A very long time ago, well before I was born, there was an island in the sea. This island was called Númenor. It was destroyed by the beings known to us as the Valar and very few were able to escape the tragedy. My ancestors came on those ships and they were the ones who built this fair city. Among the escapees was a talented warrior. Her name is lost to time but she was said to be the most skilled of any guard in Númenor. When this city was, finally, created and all the lands around it were thought to be safe, this woman gave up her warrior life style. She married another guard and they began to plan for a family. One day, the city fell under siege and both her and her husband were called back into duty by the king. They could not refuse and both fell on the field outside the city. Her spirit, being very strong, was sent to the Valar to be judged. To her great surprise, so it is told, the Valar informed her that she had not just given up her own life but the life of an innocent---the child she did not know she was carrying. She did not know this fact and became very disheartened for, out of all the fair things she could have wanted; a family was the first and foremost in her mind. The Valar took pity on her and promised to return to her the family she so desperately wanted. Their only ban was that she marry a man who was of Celtic blood and accept the fact the child might not be hers. Of course what one of Celtic blood would be is unknown to us. Such a race never lived in Middle Earth," Aragorn explained to Emma.  
  
"But what does that have to do with what I described for you," Emma questioned.  
  
She could not see how the daisy she described fit into that story. With only one mention of a battle, the odds of what she described being present were slim to none.  
  
"The sigil you described was the one this woman bore into battle. It was on her shield at the time of her death. She even wore the likeness of it on a silver chain about her neck. This chain we still possess," Aragorn answered.  
  
"The mirror was not the first time we encountered this image. It appeared in front of what Emma considers to be her mother when I showed this woman Emma's true image," Legolas intoned.  
  
Suddenly, something made totally and utter sense to Emma. Part of the tale she had been told appeared to be made for her understanding only.  
  
"The Celts are the Irish. If a person is Celtic, then they have Irish blood in them," Emma, quickly, said.  
  
"What does this have to do with the unraveling this mystery?" Legolas questioned the excited elfling.  
  
"My dad is Irish, like one hundred percent Irish. Both his parents are from Ireland going back many generations. He's pure Celtic blood," Emma explained.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas seemed to consider this new piece of information. The information Emma had provided them seemed to fit in nicely with the story, giving it one more layer of truth.  
  
"You do not think," Legolas started.  
  
"I do think so," Aragorn commented, confirming Legolas's train of thought.  
  
"Is that good?" Emma asked, not following what was going on and becoming thoroughly confused as a result of it.  
  
"Very good, little elf. You mother appears to be this warrior returned. As such, my father can not send her away. She belongs here as much as you do," Legolas explained.  
  
Emma smiled, brightly. She liked this new idea very much. A link to her old family, to the family that wanted her and was kind to her, was being allowed to stay. She hoped that Legolas could convince his father to somehow let her father stay with them.  
  
"In celebration of this," Aragorn said with a smile, "do you think you could furnish us with another dance?"  
  
Emma nodded and walked herself to the center of the room. She wanted to do another private ballet dance but a dance that meant something. Her mind settled on a dance she had done the year after the "Kiss from a Rose" dance. Her costume looked very much like the dress she was wearing, right down to the colors of the flowers on the straps and in her hair. Of course, she had worn pink tights and Pointe shoes but that was irreverent at the moment. She recalled that this one private, this singular dance, had made her mother cry so hard every time she did it that she began to feel bad asking her mother to watch it.  
  
"Before you start, Emma, what is the name of this dance?" Arwen questioned.  
  
"The dance was called 'A Prom Queen' but the song is called 'Somewhere Out There,'" Emma replied.  
  
She took her mark, starting in the center of the room, back to the viewing audience, and began the dance.  
  
*Somewhere out there  
  
Beneath the pale moonlight  
  
Someone's thinking of me  
  
And loving me tonight Somewhere out there  
  
Someone's saying a prayer  
  
That we'll find one another  
  
In that big somewhere out there And even though I know how very far apart we are  
  
It helps to think we might be wishing  
  
On the same bright star And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby  
  
If helps to think we're sleeping  
  
Underneath the same big sky Somewhere out there  
  
If love can see us through  
  
Then we'll be together  
  
Somewhere out there  
  
Out where dreams come true And even though I know how very far apart we are  
  
It helps to think we might be wishing  
  
On the same bright star And when the night winds starts to sing a lonesome lullaby  
  
It helps to think we're sleeping  
  
Underneath the same big sky Somewhere out there  
  
If love can see us through (can see us through)  
  
Then we'll be together  
  
Somewhere out there  
  
Out where dreams come true*  
  
She finished by slowly walking off the stage area, head down, eyes focused on her feet.  
  
"That was wonderful," Aragorn commented.  
  
"Thank you, sir, but it looks a whole lot better with Pointe shoes," Emma replied, sitting back down next to her brother.  
  
"Pointe shoes?" Arwen questioned, imagining a slipper with the point of a blade on it.  
  
"Pointe shoes are these wooden shoes ballet dancers use to dance on the tips of their toes. I wear them to do dances like that," Emma explained, not wanting to go into the messy details about breaking Pointe shoes in, boxes, shanks, and toe pads.  
  
"Will you two stay the night?" Aragorn offered.  
  
Legolas seemed to consider the offer for a moment, answering with, "Of course we can, my friend. It seems to me that I will need to do a great deal of thinking before I return to my father."  
  
Servants came in and made ready two rooms for the two guests. There had been a great deal of whispering between Legolas and Aragorn at the end of the meal. The two seemed to be concocting some type of plan, a plan that Emma has a role in, though how she knew that, she could not say.  
  
(AN: Please read and review---good, bad, indifferent. I really don't care! By the by, the song Emma dances to in this chapter does really always make my mother cry.) 


	26. Intervallo

AN: I'm glad the week is over. It wasn't a good one for me---my Storytelling professor totally pulled apart my essay writing style on Friday. So my confidence isn't all that great anymore. Anyway, I saw the Matrix Revolutions yesterday. It wasn't as bad as they're saying. I had a fit and a half when I saw the trailer for Return of the King. Man I can not wait until December! Both for Return of the King and the end of my semester. Then, I get an entire month off! This chapter is a way of linking this story with two other fanfictions-a Harry Potter one I'm posting and another Lord of the Rings story I'm planning on posting.  
  
TitanicHobbit: Dancing "en Pointe" is probably the most fun ever. I've been on Pointe since I was about 9 (I'm 20 now) and I've loved every second of it. I wish you well in your dance classes and I totally understand your feelings about experience. Thanks for the review by the way.  
  
kurleyhawk2: I'm going to try but I'm getting down to the nitty gritty of the semester and that means heaps of papers and tests and things.  
  
Lomiothiel: I'm glad some of your questions have been answered. You'll have to see about her dad, though. Pointe shoes are indeed made of wood but some dancers, me being one of them, have been known to crack the wood in half. We have to get ones made out of light weight fiberglass.  
  
Amy Lee: I appreciate your criticisms. I know my story needs a lot of work. I'm typing it "as is," the way it appears in the notebook it's written in. This was my first attempt at writing a story of any kind in like years. It was just means to keep me busy before class. I'll work on fixing what I can in the coming chapters.  
  
PixiePea000: She's important enough to merit staying in Middle Earth. The reactions of the king and queen, especially the queen, are very important. Perhaps my endings are inspired by two great shows; "The X-Files" and "Carnivale." They ask more questions than answer them. By the way, GOLLUM!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma felt herself being shaken awake. She opened one eye and, with her vision bleary, took in much of the room. The way the shadows played on the furniture indicated that it was probably very early. She groaned and rolled over to face the person who was antagonizing her.  
  
It was Aragorn.  
  
Emma rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and mumbled, "Good Morning. It is morning, right?"  
  
"Very early in the morning, little elf. The sun has just peeked over the horizon," Aragorn replied, watching the elven child extract herself from the sheets.  
  
"Why are you waking me up so early?" she groaned.  
  
"We have a very busy day ahead of us," he answered vaguely.  
  
Emma glanced about the room. She hadn't remembered looking at it all that closely the evening before. It was a fairly large room, twice the size of her room back home. There were two carved wooden beds in the room but only one looked like it had been slept in. There was a window between the two beds; a bit of light was filtering through it. The light created a shadow of a chair. Emma looked up and saw what, across from the window, was a desk of some type with a chair pushed into it. There was a door off to one side of the room, leading to, what Emma assumed to be a bathroom of some type. On the other wall was a large, wooden chest of drawers.  
  
"Where's Legolas?" Emma asked, not seeing her brother with his friend.  
  
"He's gone out with Ice and Fire. I am to watch you while he is away." Aragorn answered.  
  
"Where are we going?" Emma asked, gasping slightly as warm feet met cold floor.  
  
"You shall see," the king replied.  
  
He handed her what appeared to be a tunic and breeches and turned her towards the door across from the chest of drawers.  
  
She dressed quickly, breakfasted even quicker, and was gone before the sun fully came up.  
  
Legolas returned just before the sun had reached its apex in the sky. He noted that his sister and Aragorn, who should have returned much earlier, were no where to be found.  
  
After much searching, he found Arwen sitting in the throne room. She appeared to be deep in though and he was loath to disturb her thinking.  
  
Pushing his feelings aside, Legolas walked up to the throne. He did not sit. Instead, he tapped the queen ever so lightly on the arm. He wanted her attention for the briefest of seconds.  
  
She responded to the touch, looking up at her friend with sad eyes. It was the same look she had been wearing since he and Emma had arrived in the city.  
  
"Have you seen my sister? She and Aragorn were due back much earlier," Legolas questioned.  
  
"He decided a riding lesson was in order. It seems your sister is quite fearful of horses," Arwen replied, her voice a bit monotone.  
  
"What is wrong, friend?" Legolas questioned.  
  
He had caught the guilt ridden looks and the sad smiles Arwen had worn when she thought no one was looking. The flatness in her voice frightened the elf prince and made him wonder if everything was well between her and her husband.  
  
"Nothing is wrong," Arwen answered, automatically.  
  
"Arwen, I have known you far to long. You can not deceive me. You seem-I do not know- sad," Legolas countered.  
  
"What makes you think I am sad, Prince Legolas?" she retorted.  
  
"You cast guilt ridden glances at Emma and benefit her with saddened smiles. Your voice has lost all its tone, even as we speak now," Legolas said, giving all the evidence he has counted over the short period of time.  
  
Arwen sighed and the room fell silent for a few moments. The queen seemed to be gathering her thoughts; deciding if she should tell her friend what she was actually thinking about. Legolas sat quietly, not wanting to disturb his friend any further. He lowered himself onto the steps, waiting to be a listening ear if need be.  
  
"Do you remember that one winter I went to Lothlorien and no one was able to locate me?" Arwen questioned, finally breaking the oppressive silence.  
  
"I recall that winter quite well. I rode to Rivendell with a handful from Mirkwood. We were on an errand from my father. Why bring this up now?" Legolas answered.  
  
The look on the queen's face told Legolas that she needed to tell someone something she had deemed very important. For some strange reason, she had chosen him over her husband to divulge whatever this information may be.  
  
"Do you know the reason why I left?" she asked.  
  
"I assumed that it was to visit your mother's kin. That was what your father believed as well," Legolas responded.  
  
"That was the reason I told him. It was not true. The true reason is know known to anyone save myself and a handful of others," Arwen mumbled, eyes staring at her hands.  
  
"Know what?" Legolas prompted.  
  
Playing with her hands and averting her gaze so that she did not meet the eyes of the Mirkwood prince, the queen sighed.  
  
"You are aware of the fact Aragorn and I have known each other for a very long time. Several years before the ring was destroyed, he and I had a disagreement of sorts. He was riding out with a band of rangers and I did not want him to go. It seemed too dangerous at the time for him to leave Rivendell. We began to argue and he kissed me. One thing led to another and." she started, trailing off. "I understand. Please go on," Legolas interrupting, urging his friend to skip ahead.  
  
"Despite what occurred, he rode away. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or fate-I do not know-because I am not aware of ever actively thinking it but I found that I was expecting. I was scared, not knowing how my father would react or what he would do to Aragorn, so I told my father I wished to visit my grandmother in Lothlorien. He allowed me to leave, despite his reservations, and I left within weeks. You know the great distance between my home and Lothlorien and the going was slow for several reasons. I was just off the borders of Lothlorien when I decided to rest. I had been riding for a very long time and I was quite tired and sore. As I prepared to complete my journey, I was ambushed. I managed to call for my horse and was nearing the border when a very strange arrow, oozing an odd green substance, embedded itself in my side. Then and there, I knew something was amiss. I got to the borders of the woods and took note of the fact I had begun to bleed profusely. Everything past my entering the woods is still very vague. I remember calling for help and the guards coming to my aid. There was a great deal of pain and motion around me. Everything went black for a time. When I awoke, I do not know how much time had passed, I was resting in a clean white room. I was told by a healer that the arrow was tipped with something called an abortative---a substance used to kill the unborn. I was told I, myself, was lucky to be alive because the poison was that potent. I inquired about the fate of the child. Instead of an answer, I was given a bundle of cloth. Within the bundle was a tiny elf-babe, small but very much alive. I called her Niphredil," Arwen explained.  
  
Legolas was utterly taken aback by his friend's admission. To keep such a secret was unheard of.  
  
When he finally found his voice, Legolas asked, "Where is the child now?"  
  
"Patrick, the red-headed wizard, took her to his world. That is where she lives now," Arwen replied, "she was with me for about a year."  
  
"He does not know, does he?" Legolas questioned, referring to Aragorn.  
  
Arwen simply shook her head.  
  
"May I ask, what brought these feelings to the fore?" Legolas inquired.  
  
"I watch my husband interact with your sister. His own would be only a handful of years older than Emma," Arwen responded.  
  
Legolas was about to ask another question when Aragorn burst into the room, Emma slung over his shoulder.  
  
(AN: I know this is so not cannon! It's just a way for me to tie some other stories together. Please don't flame me because of it!) 


	27. Attacare e Fuoriuscire

AN: Hi everyone! I'm in a slightly better mood this week due to the fact my Physics class was cancelled for Wednesday. Physics is supposed to be science but I believe it's just a clever way to teach more math. Anyway, keep those reviews coming. I'm always shocked, and slightly nervous, when I get them.  
  
Chrystyna: You shall see what happened to Emma. Thanks for the review and I'm going to try to update a lot now because the dreaded end of the semester is coming. That means lots of papers and finals.  
  
Elleiadrieal: I hope you're feeling better. Being sick is kind of lousy. Thanks for the complement.  
  
TitanicHobbit: I've had some really horrid teachers in my day. My Storytelling professor-the bane of my existence these semester-ranks up there with them. He now wants us to read six essays he wrote about The Matrix films for a lecture he won't even be attending! Anyway, being anxious and confuzzled is never good. I hope this chapter helps.  
  
kurleyhawk2: Again, you'll see what happened to Emma. Arwen's daughter has her very own story that I'll be posting soon. It's kind of a sequel to this one.  
  
PixiePea000: Thanks! I wasn't feeling all that confident about this chapter. I like cliffies, they keep you reading and wondering. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!  
  
Lightning Rain: Thanks for reading my story! She doesn't come into the story as a character but she does have her own story coming up.  
  
Elainor: Thanks! I can assure you that she'll get to Middle Earth eventually and meet her parents but that's another story. It really is!  
  
littlesaiyangirl: Updating as we speak! Sorry, it's getting close crunch time at school. We just had to register for our classes for next semester.  
  
Lomiothiel: I can tell you that plot bunny hopped off into a different story. This was kind of my way of foreshadowing that story. Yeah, there's fiberglass in Pointe shoes. Most dancers still prefer wood but, out of necessity because Pointe shoes are blasted expensive, I had to get fiberglass.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma was confused, blood rushing to her head as she hung off of the older man's shoulders. Everything had changed in an instant. One moment she was in the middle of a rising lesson-learning how to ride bareback no less. There was a noise and, before she knew it, she was being carried back into the citadel.  
  
The noise sounded akin to the one she had heard in the woods before she had entered this city. This time, though, it was magnified a thousand fold. It frightened her but, given her current position, there was not a whole lot she could do about it.  
  
"What is wrong?" Legolas asked.  
  
Aragorn placed Emma on the ground, standing her up. She stumbled a bit, a wave of dizziness passing over her as the entire world righted itself around her. It was almost like coming out of backbend---one that she had held for a very long time.  
  
"A minor rabble of orcs and unsavory men has appeared on the borders," Aragorn replied.  
  
He added, after a few beats, "I would have gone off with Captain and the guards but I felt I should return her safely first."  
  
He turned to go, nearly at a run. Despite being the high king, he felt the need to defend his kingdom; to fight alongside his people.  
  
"Allow me to come with you," Legolas requested, running to meet his friend.  
  
Bow, full quiver of arrows, and two long knives were on his back already, a by-product of his earlier ride with the guards.  
  
"Your help is always appreciated, friend," Aragorn told the elf.  
  
Legolas froze. Someone would need to keep a close eye on Emma. Having her go missing was the last thing he needed. Her mother---technically her foster mother---would have his head on a silver platter if he "misplaced" her daughter.  
  
As if reading the Mirkwood prince's mind, Arwen offered, "I will keep a close watch on your sister."  
  
Legolas nodded and, at a true full run now, left the throne room.  
  
The two were replaced by seven guards. Each wore armor of bearing an orange, blue, and black symbol. One had an additional symbol, made of white stones, on its breast plate. The guards stood at all exits and in between windows. Despite the small number, Emma got the impression that these guards could keep this entire room safe.  
  
"We should be out there," one guard called to the other; the one with the extra symbol on their breastplate.  
  
"Captain gave us orders," the other countered.  
  
"The Captain gave you orders. You gave the orders to us," another guard prompted, as if that was explanation enough.  
  
"Can we not," the guard with the extra symbol started.  
  
Helm head shook sadly as she took in the look of the guard that was currently giving the figure trouble. It was in that guard's nature to challenge authority. It appeared to be the reason it existed.  
  
"I do not think it is fair," the other guard started.  
  
The guard was interrupted by a banging on the door. Words were spoken, words that would discern friend from foe. The door opened a crack.  
  
"His Lordship orders you to take the queen and that child someplace more secure," the figure at the door said.  
  
"Understood," the guard said.  
  
The entire conversation had taken place in a matter of moments and in something that sounded vaguely like elvish. Elvish spoken so quickly that is seemed more like singing than anything else.  
  
The guard who had taken the order walked briskly over to the one with the extra symbol. He or she repeated what had been told.  
  
A sharp nod was the guard's only reply.  
  
The guard with the extra symbol---the one Emma was now assuming was in charge of this small cadre of guards---ordered, "Come along you two. We have been told to move you to a safer location."  
  
"Where are we going?" Emma asked, panic in her voice.  
  
"Somewhere more secure," replied another guard, coming over to flank her.  
  
From where the guard had come from, Emma saw that it had been the guard who had tried to pick a fight with the one in charge. All seemed to be forgiven and forgotten as she and Arwen were moved to a building just off the citadels grounds. There they waited for what seemed to be an eternity.  
  
It was nearly sun set when Legolas and Aragorn returned. Both were covered in dirt and, what Emma decided, was some kind of slime.  
  
Aragorn gave an order and the guards trickled out.  
  
"Did she behave herself this time?" he asked the guard in charge.  
  
"Fire? No, not this time. Disrespecting authority is in her nature," the other said.  
  
Aragorn shook his head ruefully.  
  
"Thank you for keeping an eye on these two, Ice," he said in an honesty laced voice.  
  
"It was our pleasure, sire," Ice replied, sketching a bow before leaving.  
  
Emma watched her brother carefully. She went over to hug him, they way her mother would after an acrobatics or a gymnastics lesson. It was her way of making sure everything was still alright, and most of all, in once piece.  
  
Legolas, realizing what Emma meant to do, pushed her away. She gave him an expression that read half hurt, half insulted.  
  
"There are far too many things on me to allow a fair child to touch me," Legolas explained.  
  
"I'm confused or scared, not sure which," Emma whispered.  
  
"I know, little elf. We will leave as soon as we can," Legolas promised his sister.  
  
It was the wee small hours of the morning when Emma found herself standing in front of the citadel waiting to go back to Mirkwood.  
  
"And to mom and dad," she, happily, though.  
  
No guards would be escorting the two back to Mirkwood. Ice, Fire, and Wiggy were staying to aid their Captain.  
  
Legolas appeared, free from whatever grime that had been covering him before.  
  
"What are you going to tell your father when we get back?" Emma asked.  
  
"I am not sure yet, little one, but he has quite a lot of explaining to do," Legolas replied, nodding as Fire and Ice brought over two horses and a length of wood.  
  
Then he added, "We have to talk to your mother and father as well."  
  
"I know," Emma said, unsure of how she was going to break this news to her parents. 


	28. Rompere le Notizie

AN: Sorry for the lack of up dates this weekend. I had to read this horrid novel called "The Orchid Thief" for a class I have on Friday. I needed to get it done because I have a horrible feeling that I'm going to have to write a paper about it. Anyway, keep those reviews coming! I greatly appreciate them and they make my day!  
  
TitanicHobbit: I'm a bit annoyed at my ballet/jazz teacher. He drilled me on these four combinations during my private lesson on Tuesday only to change them on Saturday during ballet class. My tap teacher---well, let's not get started on her. How are your lessons going?  
  
kurleyhawk2: Thanks as always!  
  
: P: I don't write slash only because I, myself, don't read it but to each his own.  
  
TigerLily713: Thanks!  
  
Elainor: Sorry, I was a bit rushed on time when I typed that chapter. My mom frowns upon me waking her up at 4AM to tell her I'm going to sleep. You shall soon see what Thranduil thinks of Emma.  
  
PixiePea000: She has to show up at least once in every story. As the real Fire would say, "I don't have a problem with authority! I am authority!" Then again, she's also found of saying, "Not everyone can be as good as me" and "You are so much dumber than I ever thought possible." By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith.  
  
Lomiothiel: Thanks as always for the review! Let's just say her parents might take it better than his father.  
  
Elleiadrieal: I will! Thanks for the review.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The length of wood was yet another Portkey, courtesy of the wizard Patrick. It took Legolas and Emma to a point just outside of Mirkwood forest.  
  
Emma looked around, a bit confused. She assumed that they were going to be transported closer to the palace.  
  
"Why are we out here?" she asked, "How come it didn't take us closer?"  
  
"We rode out of the forest. I would be only right if we rode back in," Legolas explained, "Plus it would frighten any elf who saw us just appear out of thin air. Better we travel this way."  
  
Emma nodded, and with a boost from her brother, climbed on to the back of the dappled gray horse she was riding. Legolas rode in front of her, guiding his horse along the familiar trail. Emma's horse followed behind her brother's mount. She did not have to guide it for some odd reason. That allowed the young elf to dwell on how much she had actually learned since she left the woods. She wasn't quite sure how much time had passed but, to her, it seemed like it was a very long span of time.  
  
Legolas turned around for a spilt second.  
  
Over his shoulder, he called, "You appear to be fine with horses now. Are you not scared anymore?"  
  
"I don't think I'm scared anymore. Maybe it's because this horse is very calm," Emma replied, looking up from the braid she had been making in the horse's mane.  
  
"What will you call her?" Legolas called, sounding very causal.  
  
"You mean this horse is mine," Emma said, incredulously.  
  
Horses were expensive to give and care for in the other world. She figured it was probably the same here.  
  
"Of course she is yours. How else would you get around? We lack those noisy metal machines you have in your world. Now, what would you like to call her?" Legolas explained.  
  
Emma thought for a moment. She wanted to give her horse an interesting name, something that no one here would ever think of using. Her mind wandered back to a biology class from earlier in the year. They had been learning about binomial nomenclature; the two name system created by Carolus Linnaeus. Her teacher had required them to learn some of the Latin names for common animal species. The horse was among the group she had to learn.  
  
"I want to call her Equuis," she, finally, said.  
  
"Equuis is a very interesting name. Does it hold meaning in your world?" Legolas questioned, the Latin word sounding very odd when combined with an elven accent.  
  
"Its part of the Latin, which is a really old language where I'm from, name for a horse," she explained.  
  
"That is very clever," Legolas commented.  
  
They rode the rest of the way in silence, leaving their mounts only when they reached the stables.  
  
"Are we going to see your father or my mom and dad first?" Emma asked, as they exited the stables.  
  
"We will see your parents first but we are going to get changed first," Legolas said, taking Emma back toward his chambers.  
  
"Why?" she questioned, eager to see her parents.  
  
She had missed them very much during her time away from Mirkwood.  
  
"We are changing, little elf, because your mother is near royal status and it would do her a dishonor to tell her this news dressed as dusty travelers," Legolas replied.  
  
Emma nodded, though she wasn't quite sure what he meant.  
  
After their brief stop in Legolas's chambers, the two elves set out again. They took a long, winding path to a sparsely decorated part of the compound.  
  
As Legolas talked to the guards posted outside of her parent's room, Emma marveled at the dress she was wearing. Legolas had unearthed it from a large chest, saying that it was his mothers from when she was just a girl.  
  
The dress was long, to the floor and covering her feet. It was cream colored and had simple sleeves. Over the dress, she wore a royal blue bolero style jacket. The jacket was held closed by an ornate silver and pearl pin. Her hair was down and on the top of her head sat a dainty silver circlet. Emma decided that she probably looked very much like a princess from a fairy tale or a professional ballet dancer; she wasn't sure which.  
  
"Come along, little elf," Legolas ordered, giving her a light shove and breaking her reverie.  
  
The two guards stepped aside, allowing them entrance into the room.  
  
"Mom! Dad!" Emma, happily, called upon entering the room.  
  
She ran toward both of her stunned parents and tried to get both of them into one hug. Relief washed over the three figures. Each was happy to see the other alive and well.  
  
"Pixie, we were so worried about you. Are you alright?" Mitchell asked his daughter.  
  
"I'm better than fine, dad. Legolas took very good care of me," Emma replied.  
  
"Let me see this dress," Shannon asked, holding Emma at arm's length.  
  
Moments later she pulled her daughter back into a tight hug.  
  
"I missed you pixie," she whispered.  
  
"I missed you too, mom," Emma replied, in a whisper.  
  
Emma wormed her way between her two parents. They sat on a couch in the nicely furnished room where they had been staying. The other doors indicated, to Emma, that this was not the only room in the chamber. Legolas sat in a chair opposite the trio.  
  
"Thank you for sending us that message and keeping an eye on Emma," Shannon said to the elf.  
  
"It was my pleasure. Both of you did a very good job of raising her," Legolas commented.  
  
Shannon gave the elf a smile but her husband did not.  
  
"Can I ask what was the meaning of whisking us off to this strange place and kidnapping our daughter?" he asked, his voice laced with unbridled hostility.  
  
"You must realize that this was, in no way, my doing. This was done by my father's hand and his hand alone. I knew nothing about it," Legolas retorted, making an attempt to defend himself.  
  
"I don't care. Why take Emma with you? Did you fill her head with more cockamamie ideas? Kidnapping is against the law you know," Mitchell commented.  
  
"I took her with me on my father's orders. He is the ruler here and, as such, he makes the laws," Legolas replied, trying to keep his temper in check.  
  
"So, he's in charge. What gives you---since you're obviously not the king--- the right to take her," Mitchell added, starting to stand.  
  
Before Legolas could respond and Mitchell could do something incredibly rash, Shannon pushed down on her husband's shoulders. That forced him to sit down. She ignored the dirty look he threw her.  
  
"Calm down, Mitchell. I'm sure he can explain everything," Shannon said.  
  
The elf gave the mortal woman a small smile, thanking her for intervening.  
  
"If you will allow me, I can tell you everything I have learned about your daughter," Legolas offered, keeping a close watch on Mitchell.  
  
"Please, tell us everything," Shannon prompted.  
  
With some assistance from Emma, who added what she remembered, Legolas told the couple everything thing they had learned during their journey.  
  
"So," Shannon started when the tale had been completed, "let me see if I understand this Emma is technically your half-sister by a handmaiden of your mother. She is going to be allowed the title of princess, despite this fact,"  
  
"Something akin that," the elf confirmed.  
  
He then added, "There is more to this story. It was no happy chance or strange twist of fate that brought Emma to you."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Mitchell asked, his hackles rising again.  
  
This time it was Emma who tried to calm him.  
  
She looked up at her father and told him, "Dad, you have to listen to the story. Besides, this is about mom not you."  
  
"Shannon, do you remember that day in the studio when I could not explain the third image in the mirror?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Of course," Shannon replied.  
  
That day had been replayed in her head so many times that it was becoming part of her everyday thought processes.  
  
"Have you ever had dreams involving battles you did not recognize and elves or creatures who looked somewhat like myself? I should not call them dreams, really. They appear to be more like memories long forgotten that are trying to break free," Legolas questioned.  
  
Shannon avoided everyone's eyes and nodded.  
  
"You never told me about that, mom," Emma commented, sounding very hurt.  
  
In her mind, her mother never kept anything from her. Secrets didn't exist between the two of them.  
  
"I didn't think they were anything, pixie. I figured that they were just products of an overactive imagination," Shannon admitted.  
  
Again, with help from Emma, Legolas informed Shannon about the true nature of her background.  
  
"You look upset," Emma commented, as the story came to an end.  
  
"I'm not upset, pixie. I'm just a little confused, that's all," she said, almost mechanically.  
  
"It is a good thing, though," Emma said, with a smile, "it means that Legolas's father can't make you and dad leave."  
  
"Wait a cotton picking minute! You mean to tell me your father was going keep Emma here and send my wife and I back," Mitchell said, nearly shouting.  
  
"I am afraid so. He does not see the need to keep the two of you here," Legolas, quietly, commented.  
  
"Then, what's changed? I'm still the same person I was when I came here," Shannon stammered, confused by the sudden impact of all the information she had to now make sense of.  
  
"You are still the same person but, like Emma, you have a place here. You will come to understand that in time, once the information sinks in a bit," Legolas explained.  
  
Legolas got up to leave, understanding that this small family needed time to sort out everything they had just learned. He headed for the door when something dawned on him.  
  
"I know I have just brought Emma back but my I borrow her for a little while longer?" Legolas requested.  
  
"There is no need to ask permission, Legolas. She is your sister, after all, and I trust you'll take good care of her," Shannon replied, releasing Emma from the half hug she held her in.  
  
With a wave, Emma followed Legolas out the door.  
  
"Why do I have to go with you?" she asked, afraid she was going to get caught in the middle of some kind of massive conflict.  
  
"He needs to see you. I am hoping that, by you being present, he will tell me about your mother and why he did what he did to my mother," Legolas answered.  
  
As they walked, Legolas stated, "You look uneasy."  
  
Emma had begun to play with her hands, wringing them and crossing and uncrossing her fingers. Her eyes darted her and there as if she was looking for a quick and easy exit.  
  
"I'm not so sure I like this situation. Your father was downright mean to me when I first met him so I'm nervous he's going to be the same now," Emma admitted.  
  
Legolas thought for a minute. He did not want to lie to his sister; to tell her that everything was going to be alright and that she would not feel the king's wrath but he could not bring himself to. The truth was far better than any lie.  
  
"He may be but do not worry over much, little elf. He will probably be angrier with me," Legolas assured Emma.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
It was her natural response to many statements.  
  
"I have to tell him something he does not want to hear or admit too," Legolas explained as they reached the doorway of the throne room. 


	29. Il Padre, Il Figlio, e La Figlia

AN: Hi everyone! As usual, I appreciate all the feedback. It's very cool to see that people are actually taking time out to review my story. It always comes as a surprise to see that people are. I, initially, wasn't going to post this story but the reviews have made doing it worthwhile!  
  
Oracle: I'm glad you like my story. I'm trying! I really am! Interesting name, by the way.  
  
TitanicHobbit: I'm glad you like my story. We're starting to learn more about our performance pieces in my dance classes. I just found out I'm getting to do a nonclassical piece for my private ballet lesson. I'm doing a remake of an old song called "Scarborough Fair." School, for me, is winding down. Science is a favorite subject of mine. I'm a biology major! My mom and sister want to see "Love, Actually." I have to go with my mom to see it because I dragged her to see "Matrix Revolutions" with me. Hope everything's going well with you!  
  
PixiePea000: Well, that reaction is coming up! Let's just say he's not a happy camper. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!  
  
IrethAncalime3791: Thanks and reaction coming up!  
  
Elainor: Thanks for the complement! His reaction is coming up and, let's just say, he's not a merry old soul.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The two entered the throne room without any fanfare. Thranduil did not even take notice of their entrance. He was engrossed in some type of conversation with two dark haired elves. Emma assumed, from the way they stood and gestured, that they were advisors of some type. She stood next to Legolas, trying to imitate his calm, almost relaxed posture.  
  
"You have returned, my son," Thranduil said, finally taking notice of Legolas and Emma, "What news do you have for me?"  
  
He regarded his son fondly but gave Emma very cold stare. She averted her gaze, staring at the floor of the cave.  
  
"I am afraid, father, that you are not going to be pleased with the news I bring," Legolas commented.  
  
"Why would I not be pleased?" the king asked his tone slightly pompous.  
  
He was secure in the knowledge that the only news he would hear would be to his own benefit.  
  
"The news I bring is not going to sit well with you. You sent me to discern Emma's true parentage and I have done just that. Though I cannot remember the name of her mother, I can say that you are her father," Legolas, cautiously replied.  
  
The king shot his son a questioning look. There was doubt in his eyes. Doubt regarding the validity of the information his son was confronting him with. This had to be a mistake.  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Thranduil questioned, his voice not betraying his true feelings.  
  
Doubt was carefully hidden by a well practiced façade.  
  
"The mirror does not show falsehoods about the past. That is the only information it can give with amazing accuracy," Legolas countered.  
  
He met his father's gaze, well aware of the conflict of feelings his father was wrestling with.  
  
"What I would like to know is," Legolas started, traces of anger and hurt in his voice, "did you have any knowledge of Emma's existence prior to your first meeting?"  
  
Thranduil's doubt turned to rage. He had assumed that his son would take his side in this situation. The question posed to him seemed to show otherwise.  
  
"That, my son, is none of your concern. I do not ask about your personal affairs so do not proceed to inquire about mine," Thranduil replied, turning on his son.  
  
"Father, did you know that party was killed just after Emma was born?" Legolas wanted to know.  
  
He fought to keep his voice calm and collected. He did not want to show his father just how much this situation bothered him. That would be discussed at a later time. Right now, what the prince wanted was information and the only way to get it would be if he remained calm.  
  
"I had heard as much," the king replied in a dismissive sort of tone.  
  
That response, from the words used to the dismissive tone they were given in, raised Legolas's ire. He wanted to yell, to berate his father but he could not allow himself the pleasure of doing so. That would defeat the purpose of his quest and, probably, scare the life out of Emma.  
  
"Why were you not concerned about the life of your child? I know, from what I saw in the mirror, that you were well aware of her presence," Legolas inquired.  
  
The king, much to Legolas's surprise, smiled down at his son.  
  
"I sent them away for your benefit. I did not want you to have to share a title with some illegitimate baby. It was done for you," Thranduil replied, putting a great deal of fake piety in his voice.  
  
Legolas shook his head, seeing through his father's visage. This was an act he had seen many times and was not going to fall prey to. He thought of his mother and what the knowledge of this situation would have done to her. That was all he needed to keep his head clear.  
  
Emma, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortable from foot to foot. She did not want to be involved in this conflict. She hated conflicts of any type, from the smallest argument to the largest fight. She wanted nothing more than to will herself to her parent's chambers. She wanted to tell them about everything she had seen and done while they were separated. She was most eager to tell them about how she had danced for a king and queen and that one even was more fun than anything she had experienced in all her years of dancing. Of course, she did not get her wish. She was still standing as the centerpiece in a battle of wills.  
  
"I do believe it is too late for that fact, father," Legolas commented, making direct eye contact with his father.  
  
"Why?" the king asked heaving a bored sigh.  
  
He was tiring of this little game between himself and his son.  
  
"The Lady of the Woods bade me to make a decision regarding Emma's fate. She said she knew that your decision had already been made and I see that she was not lying. I decided that Emma should get what she is entitled to," Legolas started but he was cut off.  
  
"She is entitled to nothing. I hope you see that," Thranduil cut in.  
  
"That is where you are wrong. I decided that she should be allowed the title of princess and receive what she is due. That is the decision my mother would have made," Legolas countered.  
  
The king turned a vivid shade of red. It didn't take Emma much to imagine steam venting from the elf's ears. He turned his gaze and his rage from his son to Emma.  
  
"I want to know what kind of enchantment you put my son under," the king requested of Emma.  
  
"Enchantment, sir? I am not sure what you mean," the little elf replied, her gaze still fixed on the floor and her voice an octave above a whisper.  
  
The king shook with frustration and ranted, "Just like those people who came here with you. They denied what is true. I can not tolerate liars like that."  
  
Emma's head snapped up. She was taken thoroughly aback by that statement. There was something very wrong with what the king had just said. All the years of dancing with people who made fun or you and your family had helped her learn to control her physical responses. She did not allow them to see when they hurt her feelings. That would give them too much pleasure.  
  
She took a deep breath and let it out, centering and calming herself.  
  
"I don't appreciate you calling my parents liars, sir. As a matter of fact, it's very hypocritical of you. You denied truths and lied about things, too. You should not pass judgment on people you don't know anyway," she announced.  
  
Emma's calm, cool, collected---frankly, rational---voice shocked everyone, including Emma. She was shaking like a leaf, whether it was from nerves or anger she could not say.  
  
Her proclamation hung in the air like a heavy cloud for a handful of moments. It created a stifling silence where everything sounded unnaturally loud.  
  
"I am the ruler of these woods, child. It will serve you well to remember that fact. I will pass judgment on whomever I want. Your little speech does not matter anyway. I am sending those people far away from here," Thranduil said, breaking the silence with his threat.  
  
Legolas heaved a sigh and said, "Father, you can not do that."  
  
"Why not?" the king, angrily, asked turning his ire back towards his son.  
  
Slowly and carefully, Legolas explained everything he had discovered about Emma's foster mother.  
  
"As a result of this, father, Shannon and her spouse have every right to be here. You can not send them back," Legolas finished.  
  
Emma thought Thranduil was about to explode. He seemed to be swelling with rage.  
  
"I need to think about these matters. Take this thing back to her parents," the king ordered.  
  
Without so much as a word, Legolas ushered Emma from the room and back to her parent's quarters. No words were spoken between the two of them. There was just nothing to say. Both were emotionally drained, a fate fare worse than being physically exhausted.  
  
Once back with her parents, Emma began to perk up. She had so much she wanted to tell them but she was at a loss for where to start.  
  
"Did you guys worry a lot about me?" Emma asked.  
  
She hated, above many things, making her parents worry.  
  
"We did, pixie, but I knew you were in very good hands. You're very luck to have a big brother like him," Shannon replied, sounding very sad.  
  
Emma picked up on the tone in her mother's voice.  
  
"Mom, what's wrong?" she inquired.  
  
"Nothing's the matter. I'm very happy you've found your family," Shannon answered, placing an attempted smile on her face.  
  
Her heart just wasn't in the smile, though. There was something sad about it. Emma decided to take a stab at what was bothering her mother.  
  
"Are you afraid that I'm not going to love you and dad anymore?" she ventured.  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Emma answered her own question, "That's silly if you d. You guys took care of me and worried about me and gave me all kinds of opportunities even though I'm not really yours. That matters more than anything else. Besides, they guy who's suppose to be my father doesn't even like me. I'd rather two really good parents who love me and stuff but aren't really my parents than one real parent who hates me."  
  
"Well, then he doesn't know what he's missing out on," Shannon said, pulling Emma into a tight hug.  
  
Her fears were dispelled with that embrace. 


	30. L'Anima e l'Acqua

AN: I'm ever so sorry for not updating this weekend. I've been researching leitmotif and its uses in music from its origins in ballet to modern movie soundtracks (of course I'm adding Lord of the Rings to that list). It's for a paper that's due next week. Anyway, I'm going to try and get a few more updates in before all the school stuff starts to pile up. Just keep reviewing and I'll keep trying to update.  
  
TitanicHobbit: I got the extended edition of The Two Towers (the one with the Gollum Statue because my nickname is Gollum) but I have yet to watch it. My sister does not, in any was, shape, or form, like Tolkien. She won't let me watch the movie because the DVD player is in the room we share. Anyway, I'm not going to Trilogy Tuesday either. My dad couldn't get my mom and I tickets. I based Shannon on my own mom. She and Shannon have quite a lot in common. I hope you have a good week as well!  
  
Elainor: Thanks for the compliment. I didn't like his character in The Hobbit. Thanks for the review as well!  
  
PixiePea000: Let's just say, Shannon and my mom have a lot in common. My mom would want to say something to the king. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!   
  
littlesaiyangirl: Just a bit! Just a bit! I'll try and thanks!  
  
Lluvatar: I have this theory about Gandalf and Dumbledore. They, along with old Obi-Wan from the original Star Wars Trilogy, are all based on the same initial character. That character being Merlin. Gandalf and Dumbledore aren't the same person; they're just very alike in character and know each other. Thanks for the review.  
  
Midnight-Insomniac1532: Thanks for the complement and I will try to update as soon as I can.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The small family, still under the highest guard, awoke the next morning to find a lavish breakfast and an elven prince waiting for them.  
  
"Did you do this?" Shannon asked, blearily rubbing sleep out of her eyes.  
  
"That's not the question," Mitchell cut in.  
  
He was wide awake and watching the prince like a hawk. Distrust for these elves was building in his mind. Mitchell suspected something was going on or that this elf was planning to do something, though he had no proof to substantiate that feeling.  
  
"The question is," he continued, "why, did he do this?"  
  
"Mitchell, please," Shannon started.  
  
This time, she was cut off by a nightgown clad figure bounding through a doorway that lead to a smaller bedroom.  
  
It was Emma, the consummate morning person.  
  
"Mom, what's going on? I thought I heard you and dad talking," she said, coming to a stop next to her mother and pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes.  
  
It was then Emma noticed Legolas standing in the room. To her, he looked nervous. Normal calm was replaced by something that looked like barely restrained nerves. He appeared to have to say something but he wasn't very willing to say it right away. Instead, it appeared he had created a nice cover-up, a façade to hide the unpleasantness.  
  
"Good morning, Legolas," she called, in her "Let's-Be-Bright-And-Cheery-And- Bother-Everyone-I-Dance-With-At-8:30AM" voice.  
  
"Good morning, little elf," he replied, his voice not indicating his feelings.  
  
He turned from Emma to Shannon and Mitchell.  
  
"Perhaps, we should sit and eat. There is something I need to tell you," Legolas said, regret in his voice.  
  
Mitchell took the seat at the head of the table. To his right sat Shannon. His left sat Emma. Next to Emma sat Legolas.  
  
"What is it you need to tell us?" Mitchell asked, eyes narrowing at the elf.  
  
"Please eat first. Then we can talk," the elf requested.  
  
There was very little conversation during the meal. A tense cloud of silence hung in the air and seemed to dampen everyone's spirits, including Emma's. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the dish in front of her, only speaking to accept or decline something to eat.  
  
"What is it, you wanted to tell us?" Shannon asked, after she had finished eating.  
  
The elf took a deep breath and let it out.  
  
"My father would like to speak to you," he said, in a measured voice.  
  
"Good," Mitchell announced, "I'd like to give that pompous tyrant a piece of my mind."  
  
Legolas shook his head, indicating that Mitchell had totally missed his message.  
  
"He does not want to speak with you. He wants to speak with Shannon and Shannon only. For some strange, unknown, reason, he feels that she is responsible for my reaction towards Emma," Legolas corrected.  
  
Mitchell looked livid, as if he wanted to do something very rash and very drastic to the elven prince. A look from Shannon made him back down.  
  
"When does he want to speak to me?" Shannon asked, trying not to sound as shocked as she was feeling.  
  
"As soon as possible," Legolas informed the woman.  
  
"Allow me to get dressed and then we can go see your father," Shannon announced, her voice gaining a resolute edge to it.  
  
She wanted to give the elven king a "piece of her mind," so to speak. After finding out his reaction to Emma, she was thoroughly annoyed with him.  
  
"I can come, right?" Emma piped up.  
  
"I am sorry, little elf, but his request was for your mother only," Legolas said.  
  
Emma looked hurt. She had been hoping that, with a night to sleep on the new information, Thranduil might come around. It appeared that she was mistaken.  
  
"How about you stay here, pixie, and tell dad all about dancing for the king and queen? He went to bed before you had a chance to tell him all about it," Shannon suggested.  
  
Mitchell looked exasperated; he didn't want to hear anything pleasant about this place. He didn't feel that anything pleasant could exist here. How come? Well, he didn't like it here so, that meant, no one should like it here.  
  
"Alright," Emma said, slowly, knowing full well that her father didn't want to hear about it.  
  
"That's a good girl," Shannon affirmed, ruffling Emma's already sleep mused hair, "I'll be back as soon as I can."  
  
Clad in a simple deep blue dress, Shannon was taken before the king. Her thoughts were well ordered and, she felt, that she could answer any of his questions in a logical manner. As long as her emotions did not run too high, she would be fine.  
  
"Father, Shannon is here, just as you requested," Legolas announced, as the two neared the throne.  
  
The king did not look up right away. He wanted the human woman to be intimidated by his mere presence. He wanted her to understand that he was the one on charge, the one in whose hands her fate and the fate of her daughter rested.  
  
Shannon, instead of being intimidated, was reflecting on how unlike Thranduil and his son looked. The waiting was making her grow impatient which was leading to an overall sense of annoyance that was taking root in her. She wanted to speak her piece and be done with it. She did not like being made to stand and wait like some disobedient child who was awaiting punishment.  
  
"Legolas please take your leave," the king requested, in his most commanding voice.  
  
"As you wish father," Legolas said, bowing and taking his leave from the room.  
  
As he exited, he benefited Shannon with a small smile. He was trying to reassure her and give her a bit of extra strength. She returned the smile, acknowledging that she had received the message loud and clear.  
  
"Do you know why you were brought before me?" the king questioned, regarding Shannon with a very cold stare.  
  
"Your son said you wanted to speak to me," Shannon answered, trying to sound as polite as possible.  
  
A handful of moments passed, as Shannon and Thranduil gave each other a good once over.  
  
"I would like to know what you have done to my son or what you have trained that brat child of yours to do," Thranduil said, breaking the growing silence.  
  
His tone was cold, akin to someone who had already made up his mind and was not going to change it for any reason.  
  
"I think," Shannon started a slight quaver to her voice.  
  
His bluntness had caught her off guard. No small talk. No chatter. It was a straight blow to the heart of the matter. She took a deep breath and centered herself.  
  
Calming down, she continued, "I think that it is unfair for you to call my daughter 'that brat child.' Despite the fact I raised her, she is your daughter. It is not very nice for a father to refer to his daughter like that."  
  
"She is not my daughter," the king corrected in a condescending voice, "she was an accident. As such, I refuse to see her as a child of mine."  
  
"An accident? You're calling her an accident? I thought your kind had more dignity than that," she countered.  
  
"My kind, what do you know of my kind? You are new to this world and know nothing about it," the king commented.  
  
"I know far more than you know. I remember what you elves were like in ages past. I have these memories that keep coming up. You were a fair race but vicious in battle. That viciousness was offset only by your kindness off the battlefield. Kindness you showed to family and friends alike," Shannon intoned.  
  
Her dreams had become more powerful, more informative since her arrival in Middle Earth. She was not only recounting battle scenes but parts of her life outside the warrior's realm as well. She recalled meeting elves and spending short spans of time with them. These spans of time were highlighted by music or poetry that she was just starting to recall.  
  
The Mirkwood king gave Shannon an odd look. It was clear that he was conflicted and caught off guard by her statement. He did not think she would remember things such as that.  
  
"Unless, she is fabricating it," he, mentally, mused.  
  
A cold smile crossed his features. Its appearance made the elven king look like a predator about to pounce its prey.  
  
"Ah, yes, my son told me about your true past. How---interesting---is it to learn that you were not given a daughter by happy accident," the king commented.  
  
"Very interesting, sir. What are you getting at?" Shannon wanted to know.  
  
"Perhaps, I was fated to have this accident, just as you were fated to benefit from it," the king mused.  
  
"Please, do not refer to Emma as an accident," Shannon said, through clenched teeth.  
  
If possible, the king's smile grew colder. He could see the anger rising in the mortal woman. He had her where he wanted her.  
  
"Perhaps, I should just send you, your male counterpart and the brat princess away from here. That would save my halls from your stain for all my days," he suggested.  
  
Shannon was livid. He had insulted her. He had insulted her daughter. She felt an unquenchable rage build up in her chest. She wanted to strike out at the elven king. She wanted him to hurt physically just as she was hurting emotionally.  
  
"Keep it together, Shannon," she told herself, "you hit this pompous monster and you'll be out of her faster than you can say 'Exit Mr. Hat.'"  
  
A sense of totally and utter calm passed over Shannon. Her head cleared, her breathing was not coming in angry gasps. A moment of clarity---that was what she called moments such as these. Everything was put into focus and made sense to her.  
  
The man sitting on the throne was no different than the men in her world who refused to pay child support for a daughter or son they knew was theirs. He was, in her mind, a "deadbeat dad." It was an interesting twist of fate that his son had taken a liking to his half-sister.  
  
"You, good sir, are a monster. You deny your daughter just because you do not want to admit a mistake. That is very, very self-centered and egomaniacal of you. What you fail to realize is that you are missing out on getting to know a wonderful little girl. She is not a 'brat princess' or 'that brat child.' She is a good girl, a sweet girl, an innocent girl who wanted only to meet her real family. She's met you and seen that there was no benefit in meeting you. Perhaps the only benefit was that she has an older brother. Someone who understands what she is and where she comes from. Your son has befriended your daughter. Why can you do the same?" Shannon explained.  
  
"You and your daughter have put some kind of enchantment over my son. He knows not what he does. I will not fall under the same enchantment," Thranduil replied, thoroughly shocked by the mortal woman's statements.  
  
He called out in his own language and two guards appeared on either side of his throne.  
  
"Take her back to her quarters and fetch my son," he ordered.  
  
The two guards nodded their acknowledgement of the orders. They came down from the throne and flanked the mortal woman. A gentle nudge on the back set the woman walking.  
  
Turing around, Shannon stopped. Planting her feet, she made herself a somewhat immovable object.  
  
"In my world, we have a saying 'Blood is thicker than water.' It would seem that this saying does not apply here," she commented.  
  
After making that statement, she allowed the guards to escort her from the room. She had a daughter to see and a husband to calm down.  
  
The king, upon her exit, sat alone on his throne. There was much he needed to think about. The cogs in his mind began a slow turn, ideas forming. 


	31. Intestazione Domestica

AN: I'm really, really sorry. I was been paper swamped over Thanksgiving Break. I had three papers due: one for Dance History (on themes and music), one for Storytelling: Then and Now (religious allegory and The Matrix Trilogy), and genetics (four articles with seven questions to answer for each article) but they're (mostly) done now---the Storytelling one still needs a bit of tweaking. I promise to update more frequently since all my papers are done and I only have two finals this semester. I so can't wait until December 15th when my semester's over. By the by, I got the Return of the King Soundtrack. It's beyond great!  
  
Sparkle23: Well, he isn't a very nice king/ruler. Look at how he acted in The Hobbit. Thanks for the review and the complement.  
  
Elleiadrieal: Technically, Shannon could but she knows not to. I appreciate the review and the complement! I'm really glad you like this story of mine.  
  
TitanicHobbit: I hope your dance class went well. Mine were cancelled due to Thanksgiving but I have lessons tomorrow and I know I'm in for trouble. My mom's a big mouth and the ultimate defender when it comes to my sister and I. Well, really more me than my sister. My sister has a very big mouth. She only got me the big box because she calls me Gollum. I, actually, have an Aragorn story coming up after this one. He and Legolas are two of my favorite characters. Anyway, thanks for the review.  
  
PixiePea000: We all know how my mom is when she gets mad. Just look at all the chaos she's caused at the dance studio! By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith.  
  
Elainor: He's an old dog and you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks. She's not very happy with her daughter's biological father, to say the least! Thanks for the review.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Shannon was returned to her quarters by the guards who said nothing to her no matter what she asked them. They only spoke to each other in low, musical tones.  
  
"What happened?" Mitchell asked, interrupting the story Emma had been telling him.  
  
The little elf looked hurt for a split second, perking up when she saw her mother. She knew that a far better story was on the way.  
  
"Let's just say," Shannon said, flopping wearily onto a couch, "that it didn't go well at all."  
  
She proceeded to tell her husband and child about the confrontation she had with Thranduil, recalling every cruel remark and sharp retort he had given her.  
  
Emma looked hurt at times but unfazed at others. She had decided that if Thranduil wasn't going to make an effort to like her, she wasn't going to make an effort to like him. It was just like the people she danced with. She stayed out of their way and they stayed out of hers. It was an unspoken, mutual pact between the two parties to keep from open hostilities.  
  
Mitchell, on the other hand, got progressively angrier and angrier looking. He wanted to lash out at someone, preferable someone of elven blood. That, of course, did not include Emma. As far as he was concerned, Emma did not need this other man. She had one perfectly good father already.  
  
"I have to talk to this guy," Mitchell announced, when his wife had finished speaking.  
  
He made a motion to get up and head for the door.  
  
"Sit down, Mitchell," Shannon, sharply, ordered.  
  
"Why should I? Look, Shann, we've been duped by this guy? I bet his son is in on the act," Mitch said, beginning to pace.  
  
Shannon sighed. She knew what was coming. Mitchell was in angry mode and nothing, save some kind of miracle, was going to stop him.  
  
"Dad," Emma intoned, "Legolas had nothing to do with what his father said to mom."  
  
"Look, just because he's your friend, Emma, you don't have to stick up for him. He could have lied to you and to your mother you now," Mitchell ranted.  
  
Emma looked toward her mother, a silent question in her eyes. She didn't want to believe her father. She wanted to believe that, despite Thranduil's reaction, Legolas was being totally honest with her.  
  
"He's just mad, Emma," Shannon whispered, "go on and get dressed."  
  
Emma nodded, knowing that it would be far wiser to listen to her mother than try to confront her father. She got up, noting that she still wasn't making a sound when she moved, and began to walk over to her room.  
  
She entered and, quietly, shut the door. Through the thick wood she could hear her mother giving her father a piece of her mind. This should have upset her, like it did when such events happened at home, but it didn't. She knew her father was uncomfortable in this situation and it was only a matter of time before this happened. She dressed silently, putting on a leaf green tunic with a darker green, long sleeved shirt under it and matching darker green pants. She left her slippers on her feet. They were comfortable and reminded her of her ballet shoes back home.  
  
The yelling died down. Emma crept out of her room to find her mother sitting and having a quiet discussion with her father.  
  
"It's alright, pixie," Shannon said, when she spotted Emma creeping slowly out of her room, "Dad and I had a little talk to sort things out."  
  
"It's ok if I sit here?" she questioned, when she had reached her mother's side.  
  
"Of course," Shannon replied.  
  
Emma sat and joined the quiet discussion which seemed to be about requesting a brief leave before staying permanently in Middle Earth. Shannon and Mitchell felt that, to just disappear entirely, was not the best or the most logical idea in the world. Things would need to be set in order first.  
  
Legolas appeared in the doorway, just as the sun was setting. He looked baffled, to say the least. There was something about his expression that made it seem like he had just been presented with a puzzle he could not figure out or explain.  
  
"What's going on?" Shannon asked, taking note of the elf's expression.  
  
Legolas sat on the couch, taking a seat next to Emma. The young elven girl greeted him with a smile which he made a valiant attempt at returning.  
  
"I bring word from my father. Word regarding the three of you," he said to the small family.  
  
"What about us?" Emma asked, slowly, scooting over to allow her mother to sit down next to her.  
  
"He has, for some very strange reason, decided to allow the three of you to stay," Legolas began.  
  
"Well, that's good," Shannon cut in, trying to sound cheery.  
  
"There is more and this part is most strange. He is allowing Emma to retain the title I granted her. He will allow her to be princess under one condition," Legolas continued.  
  
"What condition?" Mitchell questioned, darkly.  
  
"You two are to continue to be responsible for her upbringing. She is to remain with you but she is to begin the proper education for a child of her age and stature," Legolas informed the worried looking mother and the angry father.  
  
"Like school?" Emma questioned, carefully.  
  
Legolas looked to Shannon to answer. He was not quite sure what school was.  
  
A memory of a half a dozen or so small elven children sitting in a library suddenly appeared to Shannon. The children sat gathered around a large oaken table while a taller, most likely older; spoke in a droning form of elvish to the children. She did not understand what the elf was saying but something about it---some part of her former life that still remained rooted in her consciousness---made her think it was a history lesson.  
  
"Like school," Shannon confirmed, "we just have to work on your elvish. Well, not we."  
  
Legolas gave a small laugh. Shannon was remembering. Now if he could somehow drag the warrior part out of her---the part that was a fighter---he would be happy.  
  
"Elvish?" Emma questioned in a smallish voice.  
  
"We will work on that later," Legolas said, "Remember I offered to teach you elvish. If you mother would like to lean as well, I will be glad to refresh her memory."  
  
"You mean," Mitchell cut in, breaking the flow of the conversation, "that after all the torment your father put my wife and my daughter through, he's going to just allow them to take up living here."  
  
"I do, sir. It is my father's wishes though, as I said before, I do not know why he had this change of heart. I can assure you that it was not kind ness that moved him," Legolas countered.  
  
A tense moment passed between the two, filling the room with a thick silence.  
  
"May I ask another question?" Emma requested.  
  
"Of course," Legolas replied, relieved that the tense silence had been broken.  
  
"If your dad is letting me be a princess and stuff, that means I can make requests, right?" Emma questioned, an idea already taking shape in her head.  
  
Legolas watched Emma, warily. He was sure that she was planning something but he was not sure what she had in mind.  
  
"Yes, I believe you are," he answered, caution in his voice.  
  
"Can we go home and come back when we're ready?" Emma asked, giving voice to her parents' earlier conversation.  
  
Legolas thought for a brief moment. Setting up a transport would not be all that difficult. The one his father had used to bring the small family here could take them away just as easily.  
  
"I do not see why not. I believe my father would like that idea very much. When would you be ready to return?" Legolas questioned.  
  
Emma looked to her parents for the answer to that question. That was the part of the conversation she had missed.  
  
"June, after Emma finished school and dancing. That would give Mitch and I enough time to set everything in order," Shannon answered.  
  
"When would you like to leave here?" Legolas asked.  
  
"As soon as we can, not that we're not thankful for your hospitality. It's just that someone might notice the fact we're gone," Shannon replied.  
  
"I will see to it," Legolas announced, bowing out of the room.  
  
It was far later when he returned with the large box that had transported Emma and her parents to Middle Earth. The box was not the nly thing he was carrying. Tucked into his belt were two tiny cloth pouches.  
  
"When can we get out of here?" Mitchell quipped, "Or, has our parole been denied?"  
  
Legolas looked confused by the last part of that statement.  
  
Using the part he did understand, he answered, "You can leave right now, if you so desire."  
  
He placed the box on the dining table, allowing Emma and her parents to crowd around it.  
  
Suddenly he remembered the two pouches at his waist.  
  
"Before you leave, these are for you," he announced, handing a greenish pouch to Emma and a dark blue pouch to Shannon.  
  
"Thank you," the two females said in unison.  
  
Shannon opened her pouch first, placing two fingers in the center and pushing the sides of the drawstring apart. She poured the contents into her open hand.  
  
In the center of her hand, on a silver chain, was a daisy shaped flower. The petals seemed to be made of different colored stones or gems; light green, purple, blue, pink, yellow, and white. The center was made up of a red top resting over a white bottom. There was something vaguely familiar about this item. She recalled seeing the symbol somewhere.  
  
"I can't take this," Shannon said, trying to hand the item back to Legolas.  
  
The elf stepped back, moving just out of Shannon's reach.  
  
"It was not mine to give. That was once yours, Shannon. It belonged to your previous self. A very good friend of mine had that in his stores and he gave it to me to return to its rightful owner," Legolas explained.  
  
Shannon, still looking like she wanted to return the item to Legolas, just nodded and placed the chain around her neck. Its weight there seemed familiar and very comfortable. She found herself missing that feeling but not being able to explain why.  
  
Emma looked to her mother for confirmation that she was aloud to open her pouch. Her mother nodded and Emma pulled the two cloth sides away from one another.  
  
Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a thin silver chain with a leaf made out of a waxy green stone.  
  
Before she could say or do anything, Legolas explained, "It is the symbol of my father's house. I have one somewhat akin to it, though I do not wear it. It is made of beryl, a type of elven stone. Wear it and recall who you really are."  
  
Emma nodded, allowing Legolas to place the charm around her neck. She wasn't one to wear jewelry but she vowed not to take this off.  
  
"Just place your hands on the box and you should be sent right home," Legolas ordered.  
  
After saying their good-byes, which were long and somewhat tearful, Emma and her parents placed their hands on the box.  
  
With a flash of white light, they were gone. 


	32. Ballato Male

AN: I know I've been a very bad, delinquent author. It's not my fault, really! Finals and stuff have decided to creep right up on me so I'm up to my elbows in extra school work. I have an entire month off coming up and I promise to update all the time and, hopefully, get my next story up and running. Please accept my sincerest apologies. By the by, I can't wait for Dec. 17th and Return of the King! I keep seeing commercials and stuff and it just looks so cool!  
  
Somnia: I assure you, I'm no genius. I'm just your average college student with a lot of time on her hands. Thanks for the compliment, though. I greatly appreciate it!  
  
Elainor: You shall see about them returning rather soon. Thranduil just may be a wee bit unnerved by the fact Shannon stood up to him but, I can assure you, he always has something up his sleeve.  
  
Midnight-Insomniac1532: I thank you for your patience. It is now being rewarded!  
  
PixiePea000: Mitch is very much the hot head and I am very fond of cliffhangers. I promise that I will not have a Matrix Reloaded cliffhanger anywhere. Dead annoying ending, really! Anyway, Sir Spiro did take issue with me and I did get screamed at. It's not my fault I don't remember things! Anyway, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith.  
  
Tini-angel: Thank you for your compliment. I wasn't aware of the number of dancers and former dancers that were on this site. I'm glad you liked my little story!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The small family, sans a certain elven prince, returned to their home as if they had never left it. Though their surroundings had not changed, the people who lived within them had.  
  
The blaring noise of cars and the city air bothered Emma. Though she was only there for a short time, the more natural surroundings of Middle Earth had become the norm for her. She found herself drifting back to her time in Middle Earth and deciding that this world, the one she had lived in for her entire life, was not really her world. She belonged in Mirkwood with her own kind. She was determined, though, to stick out her final few months here.  
  
There was no real way Shannon could reconcile her past life with her present. She was not a warrior, not someone who wielded blade in battle. She was a mother who worked for a small advertising firm. She was a stage parent, making sure her daughter looked all well and good when she got on stage, and a wife who acted as a foil for her husband's bad temper.  
  
This inability bothered Shannon as her dreams became more frequent and more powerful. Sometimes, they would come to her during the day, interrupting the daily discourse of her life.  
  
Time passed quickly and, before anyone knew it, it was early June. For Emma and her mother, early June meant one thing and one thing only---the dreaded costume rehearsals.  
  
"You know you're the best looking dancer in this group," Shannon told Emma as they sat and watched the rest of the ballet class scurry to and fro in their costumes.  
  
Emma giggled as she watched the other dancers struggle with their wigs and costumes. There was a great deal of noise and commotion as dancers pinned costume parts together or tried to decide how best to hide their natural hair under a short wig.  
  
This was the first time she had seen the Junior ballet class in their costumes. These girls would be playing other roles in the ballet and had their class at a much later time.  
  
A tall dark skinned girl named Lauren was dressed in boxy looking armor and was sitting with Miss Michelle. They appeared to be trying to affix some type of furry chin-wig to her face. It took Emma a moment to realize that she was supposed to be Gimli the dwarf.  
  
Two girls, very close friends, sat a bit apart from everyone else. They were whispering to each other and adjusting parts of their costumes.  
  
One had a very blank expression on her flat looking face. Emma recognized her as Daniela. Dressed in shabby gray with a long gray wig and beard, Emma supposed that this girl was supposed to be Gandalf the Gray.  
  
Her companion, a girl Emma knew as Melissa, was dressed in a very bulky looking costume with lots of fake fur and a long robe. The somewhat red wig clued Emma that this dancer was supposed to be Bormir.  
  
As chaos over took the floor, Spiro called, "Get up stairs! NOW!"  
  
Looking at her mother with a concerned but knowing expression, Emma ran up the stairs.  
  
She was met at the top of the stairs by a very grumpy looking Spiro. She knew costume rehearsals were not his favorite thing and, as a result of that, forced him to be in possession of a very strong attitude.  
  
"What's going on down there?" he wanted to know.  
  
"Um---half the kids can't get their wigs on and the other half can't get their costumes on either," Emma answered, quietly.  
  
Spiro cursed loudly in both English and Greek. Then he headed back down their stairs with all the bluster of a hurricane.  
  
Emma knew that Spiro had been getting frustrated with the class. She didn't really know why but something told her that it had something to do with the "staff." Shrugging, Emma climbed up the final few stairs and entered the upstairs classroom.  
  
She took one look around the room, morning sunlight filtering in through the shaded windows, illuminating little patches on the hardwood floor. The banks of overhead lights were off and the back door was open, letting in a fresh breeze and creating a larger pool of sunlight.  
  
"I really hate being up her alone," Emma mused.  
  
She'd never liked being in the upstairs classrooms by herself. She was accustomed to someone else, even if the other person was busy ignoring her, being in the room with her.  
  
Then she noticed the figure sitting in the pool of sunlight nearest to the back door.  
  
Dressed as a mortal man, once again, was her brother. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable in his outfit but managed a smile when he saw that Emma had, finally, noticed him.  
  
Skipping over, Emma gave Legolas a huge hug. She had missed him very badly, since leaving Middle Earth.  
  
"I missed you, too, little elf," Legolas said with a laugh as he returned the hug, "how have you been?"  
  
"We've been good. My mom and I really miss it. What brings you here?" Emma, excitedly, replied.  
  
"Just to check on both yourself and your mother. I also bring word from a certain king. He hopes that when you come home you will give him the honor of dancing for him once again," Legolas recalled.  
  
Emma gave a quiet laugh, not wanting anyone to hear her talking to the other figure in the room, and commented, "Please tell the king I have lots of dances for him and it would be my pleasure to show him another."  
  
Listening with keen ears to make sure no one was on, near, or coming up the stairs, Emma brought up the topic of their shared home world.  
  
"How is everything back there?" she questioned, "Is your father still mad at my mom and stuff?"  
  
"I do believe he is better. It seems like he has decided to accept what has transpired and move on from there. I sense that he is planning something and that can not be a good thing. Other than that, everything is well and I await your arrival," he answered.  
  
"I really can't wait to go back. I never noticed just how gross it is here. I all the dirt and the noise anymore," Emma admitted, "I want to go back where there are trees and clean things."  
  
Legolas smiled at the little elf sitting before him. He felt the same way every time he came to her world.  
  
"Why are you dressed like that?" Legolas questioned, taking note of her strange mode of dress.  
  
"It's costume rehearsal day. We have to do the whole dance a few times in our costumes," Emma explained.  
  
There was the familiar sound of people coming up the stairs, causing the two elves to end their conversation. There was no need for the people she danced with discover that they had two very nonhuman visitors in their midst.  
  
Daniela, Melissa, and Lauren appeared in the doorway.  
  
Melissa, though younger than Emma by about two years, threw the elven clad child a glare and announced, "Spiro said to for you to get your prop and start stretching."  
  
Lauren and Daniela did as they were told, rushing to a very large cardboard box and pulling out strange looking items. Melissa, once the other two had cleared the way, walked over and did the same. She threw another glare in Emma's direction as she walked past.  
  
While the other three girls were engrossed in their stretching, Emma went over to the box and pulled out her prop. Her prop, as it was, consisted of a very small bow and an empty quiver.  
  
Choosing a spot closest to her brother's seat, Emma sat on the floor and began to stretch.  
  
"What kind of sad weapon is that?" Legolas questioned, seeing the items Emma left on the floor.  
  
"It's a prop, just something we use on stage to make our dance look better," Emma replied.  
  
Legolas retrieved the "prop" items and looked them over.  
  
"This is very unlike what I use back home. When we go back, I will show you what proper elves use," he promised, placing the items back on the floor.  
  
He was about to say something more when Emma shook her head. There was a very large group coming up the stairs.  
  
The rest of the ballet class entered the room without as much as a word. Spiro was the last up, slamming the door behind him.  
  
After berating the class about their overall bad attitudes, Spiro made them run through the dance.  
  
His words were still resonating in the minds and hearts of his dancers. The run though was far from the organized, rhythmically perfect dance he had created. It was sloppy and ill timed. Their hearts were just not in the movement.  
  
The music died down, the final chords being played and the last three dancers---Kim, Emma, and Lauren---exited.  
  
The dancers stood frozen in their places, some expecting the best, most expecting the worst. Those expecting the worst were the veterans who knew just what was going to happen next. What was about to happen was something of a yearly ritual and would be very unpleasant this year considering the state of their dance. 


	33. La Sede del Cuore

AN: I'm so excited! My semester's over! I'm free from college classes for an entire month. I'm going to miss school (it gives me something to do during the day and allows for lots of writing time) but I could use the break. I'm going to try to update more often now that I'm free from tests and papers. So, is it just me or is everyone out there excited about Return of the King? It's going to be beyond belief!  
  
Tini-angel: Thanks for the compliment. Spiro, my ballet teacher and the person I have to face at 8:30AM every Saturday, actually gives these speeches every year and when he does, it is really time to be afraid.  
  
TitanicHobbit: No problems. I know way too much about ghastly reports and having to do them. It's part of the school package. I also know quite a bit about having to rush to dance lessons--- it's not my fault, though, because I don't drive. Thanks for the review, no matter how long or short!  
  
PixiePea000: Spiro's already in "Show Mode" and it's only December. It's something you want to miss but something you have to see, especially when he goes all Morpheus and does his prophesizing bit. He does give some really amazing speeches when he's like that. They'll get to Middle Earth eventually and, yes, we will be seeing more from the dancers we all love to hate. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!  
  
Elainor: Thanks! It's kind of like the idea that once you've left, there's no going back. She knows she's not human and she has to tough out what's left of her time on earth.  
  
elvenrocker: It's more along the lines of like a plastic toy but not a very good one. Legolas, since he's from Middle Earth and all, wouldn't know what plastic was and, I'm assuming, is use to bows made out of wood.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
"All of you! Here! Now," Spiro shouted, as he turned of the CD player with an audible click.  
  
Sensing the instructor's foul mood, the entire class walked swiftly to where he was standing. The look in the eyes of the instructor was one of pure anger. He wasn't going to be kind, this time around, making recommendations of how to improve the dance. This time around, he was going to make demands and, most likely, single out dancers for their mistakes. When in a really rotten mood, he had a tendency to do such things. Public humiliation was a teaching tool in this class.  
  
"Sit!" he barked.  
  
Everyone, moving as one unit, took seats on the floor around Spiro. The Junior dancers sat towards the front and looked as if they were going to burst into tears at any given moment. Behind them sat Emma's class, most looking stony faced. Emma sat the furthest away she could possibly sit, her knees drawn up into her chest and her mind very far away.  
  
One by one, Spiro began to berate his dancers; even Michelle's highly touted "staff" felt his ire. He picked apart the slightest mistakes, from a miscue by the arms to the missing of an accent on a specific gesture.  
  
"Any you," he said, turning his ire towards Emma, "what were you thinking cutting in front of Lauren like that during your duet. That's not how I wanted it. You have a problem with making up your own choreography, Emma. Ever year it's the same thing with you. Around show time, you turn into this little ditzy blond. Another thing, you're arms are a mess. I don't know what to tell you anymore about them. They've always been a mess and there's nothing I can do to help you with that. You stepped out on the wrong foot during your ending step and make sure to spot when you turn. You never spot. One more thing, stop bunking into people. You're just a hazard on stage."  
  
Emma looked at Spiro and just nodded. It was her way of telling him that she understood his comments and would try to work on rectifying them. She hadn't made that many mistakes and her arms we're that bad this year but she didn't make to move to correct Spiro. She knew he was just venting his anger.  
  
After humiliating the Junior dancers, Spiro turned to address the class as a whole.  
  
"All of you are giving me garbage. I could care less what's wrong with you and your little existences outside of my class. When you're here, I want all of you here. By all of you, I mean body, mind, spirit, and heart. All of you need to discard whatever's bothering you. Close your eyes and go to your place. Someplace where you're happy and can fully be part of this class," Spiro announced.  
  
Everyone did as they were told, closing their eyes. You learned quickly not to cross Spiro when he was in one of his moods. It was an excuse to catch up on a few moments of sleep for many of them, anyway.  
  
Emma tightly shut her eyes, knowing exactly where she could dance with a clear head and a free mind, spirit and heart.  
  
What seemed like hours later, Spiro called for them to open their eyes. Several sets of eyes, many of them being rubbed by tired owners, focused on the somewhat calmer ballet teacher.  
  
"Now we're going to share," he stated with a malicious grin, "Kim, where did you go?"  
  
Kim looked slightly agitated at being chosen to speak first but, being one of the veterans in the class, knew better than to balk at the order.  
  
"I'm at Yankee Stadium watching a game from field level with my boyfriend- you know Syd, Victoria's father-and Derek Jeter wins the game with a home run. I get to run out onto the field and make out with him," Kim stated.  
  
Emma, mentally, groaned.  
  
"Leave it to Kim," she mused, "and, besides, everyone knows the New York Mets are the best team ever."  
  
Spiro went around the room to everyone present in the class. He wanted to know where they went to mentally relax themselves. It was his way of apologizing for his earlier remarks.  
  
"What about you, Emma?" he, finally, asked the elven clad child.  
  
Emma sighed, knowing that her answer was going to raise more unpleasant questions. She could have over simplified her answer but that would not have been honest.  
  
"Different places," she, simply, replied.  
  
"Explain," Spiro requested, starting to sound exasperated.  
  
"Well, different places for different dances. When we do this dance, I think of once place but, when I do my private, I think of another place," Emma elaborated.  
  
"And can you tell us about these places?" Spiro pressed.  
  
Emma thought for a minute, organizing her ideas, and nodded.  
  
"When we do this dance, I think it would be normal to think about the sections in the book or the movie that go along with the parts of the dance. I can not get myself to do that, for some reason. For this dance, I'm in the woods. It's dark and scary and I know that there are bad things in the woods. Things that would probably kill me if they had the chance. I'm not scared, though, because I know that there are good things living in the woods too. They're watching from the bushes to make sure nothing bad happen. You don't see them because, they're very quiet and blend in but you know they're there. For my private, I'm in a white castle-like building. There are lots of people there and I'm supposed to dance for them. I do because it makes me happy knowing I'm making them happy," Emma responded.  
  
No one in the class moved for a handful of moments. They weren't quite sure what to make of Emma's explanations. Finally, many of them decided she was just crazy or crazier than they initially thought.  
  
Legolas, who had been listening the entire time, just shook his head. He knew Emma was making an attempt to relay the fact her mind was dwelling in her natural home of Mirkwood or, for some strange reason, the White City of Minas Tirith. It also seemed she was trying to tell then that it was in those locations her heart, her spirit, were most comfortable in.  
  
He smiled a bit, knowing Emma's elven keen eyes would pick up on it.  
  
She returned the smile, assuming that he understood just what she was trying to express.  
  
"We're going to do this dance once more so try to remember what we just talked about," Spiro ordered. 


	34. Ballare

AN: Just a few more days until Return of the King!!! I convinced my mom to take me on Wednesday, even though she's not a really big Lord of the Rings fan. I'm so excited. It looks so good from all the commercials I've seen thus far. The soundtrack, which I've had for awhile now, seems to indicate that this movie is something very big. I'm beyond excited and my sister is teasing me about it. She's not fan in any way, shape, or form.  
  
Cherrymania: Thanks for the compliment! I appreciate it!  
  
Midnight-Insomniac1532: It does seem that way, doesn't it? My ballet teacher, on whom the character of Spiro is heavily based, says he does it for our own good. It does work. I mean, he yells and we jump. He says turn and we turn. He says leap and we ask how many. Fear seems to be a very powerful ally for them.  
  
Elainor: Thanks! She has a whole new take on being an elf now. Let's just say, she has some personal experience now.  
  
GinnyPotter: Thanks for the compliment.   
  
PixiePea000: The Mets are the best, even when boycotting them in August. It's not anyone fault but their own that they can't play. Anyway, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!  
  
*words* indicate something being sung. The song in this chapter is on the radio, being used as something to dance to. It's called "Scarborough Fair" and is being sung by Sarah Brightman.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
With his order hanging in the air like a rain cloud, the dancers stood, brushed off their costumes, and walked over to their marks.  
  
Spiro took his place near the radio, preparing to turn it on at a moment's notice.  
  
"Interesting tactic, Spiro," Legolas commented, approaching the dance instructor.  
  
"It something I do every year; gets their hearts in the right places. I'd like to understand what Emma was babbling on about, though. Sometimes I wonder about her," Spiro retorted.  
  
Legolas concealed a smile. He knew full well what the elven clad ballerina was speaking about.  
  
"Perhaps, her heart lies somewhere outside this world," Legolas suggested, "Someplace like Middle Earth."  
  
"Who knows with that kid? Great dancer, you could almost say gifted but her head's in the clouds," Spiro said with a shrug.  
  
As an afterthought, he called, "Emma, go get your mom."  
  
The elven clad child broke formation, whizzing past her brother and ballet teacher in a swirl of silvery-white hair. She trotted down the stairs and returned, moments later, with her mother in tow.  
  
Shannon took in the sight of all the fully costumed dancers, all of them standing at attention. She knew that Spiro, probably, had a little talk with them. It was only after his talks that these dancers acted in such a manner.  
  
With a glance over her shoulder, Shannon gave a start. Sitting in the room was a much unexpected figure.  
  
She walked over to the seated figure and whispered, "Hello there, my prince."  
  
The elf looked momentarily flustered, not expecting to hear his formal title in this world. He looked up and regarded the figure who had used the dreaded title.  
  
"Mrs. O'Connolly, it is a pleasure to see you once again," the elf said, in a highly formal voice, "I hope you are well."  
  
"I am well, Legolas, still dreaming but very well," she replied.  
  
"That was expected. You are coming to understand your past life," Legolas explained.  
  
"I think we're both up here today for the same reason," Shannon commented, noting the attention Legolas was paying to the dancers, in general, and Emma, in particular.  
  
The elf nodded, not wanting to speak. Spiro had turned the music on.  
  
Unlike the previous attempt at the dance, the group moved as one unit. They wove patterns that told a story that was all too familiar to a certain elf prince-disguised-as-a-scout sitting in their midst. Solos and duets were interspersed with large, complicated group dances. The dancers put their entire heart, their entire beings into this one dance. They were giving Spiro what he had given them when he taught---every emotion returned ten fold, every negative comment turned into a positive, all his work mirrored in one grand effort.  
  
"That, Spiro was beautiful," Shannon informed the dance teacher once the final notes had passed.  
  
"Thank you but I couldn't do it without them. They work hard, you know," Spiro replied.  
  
"I know they do but it's your spirit that makes them work," Shannon told him.  
  
Spiro gave a half hearted shrug, not fully accepting the compliment he was given.  
  
Emma, after dumping her props in the box, bounded over to join her mother and her dance teacher.  
  
"Did you like it?" she questioned, in a bright voice.  
  
"Of course I did," Shannon replied.  
  
"I have to step away for a moment but I want Emma to do her private in her costume in about ten minutes. Is that alright with the two of you?" Spiro prompted.  
  
Shannon nodded and, with that, Spiro went back over to his radio.  
  
Mother and daughter walked over to pay a brief visit to Legolas.  
  
"That was an interesting interpretation. I do not think I have ever seen that story expressed in that way," Legolas commented.  
  
"Is that a bad thing?" Emma asked, worried she had done a bad job acting in her brother's role.  
  
"Not at all. I know a certain king who would find all of this very interesting," Legolas replied.  
  
Stepping back, Shannon took stock of the pair that was in front of her. A newly found brother talking to his newly found baby sister. It was an interesting pair to say the least.  
  
"You know, pixie, dressed like that the two of you could be twins," Shannon commented, "of both of you were home of course."  
  
Emma giggled a bit, brushing a few hairs out of her face. In a few minutes she would be subjected to putting her hair up.  
  
Legolas, on the other hand, retorted, "We are brother and sister you know."  
  
Shannon gave Legolas a knowing smile and, taking Emma by the hand, asked, "Can you stay a bit longer? Emma's going to be allowed to do her private."  
  
She added the last part with some sarcasm in her voice. The way the people in the studio treated her daughter had made her very critical about the studio.  
  
"I can stay a bit longer," Legolas confirmed, "I would like to see this other dance."  
  
Shannon and Emma darted downstairs, leaving Legolas upstairs with the rest of the class. Many of them were giving him angry, cold stares. He assumed that this was a result of the fact he had allied himself with the least popular member of their class.  
  
Emma returned nearly some time later. Gone were the breeches and long sleeve tunic. Instead, she wore a red wine colored dress. The top was worked with a deeper red thread, creating a leaf and vine motif. The attached skirt was several layers thick and came down to her knees. The dress, itself, was singled strapped over the right shoulder. Around her neck and trailing in front of and in back of the dress, was a deep red scarf fashioned out of some type of silken looking material. In her hair, was a wreath of tiny red flowers. On her feet were some type of shoes made of a shiny material with two ribbons trailing up pink material covered legs.  
  
It was her hair that shocked the elven prince the most. He was use to seeing her with her hair down, looking like a silvery-white waterfall. Only once had he seen her with her hair up, the first time he met her. Then it was in a series of twists and braids. This time, though, it was different. Her hair was pulled up to rest near the top of her head. It was in a braided bun; a bun that was surrounded by the tiny red flowers.  
  
She caught Legolas's eye and turned as red as her costume.  
  
"I look silly," she commented.  
  
"No you don't," the elf retorted, "you look wonderful. You look more mature."  
  
"See, I told you," Shannon said, coming up from behind Emma.  
  
Emma gave them both a small smile and wandered over to her mark. Spiro had heard her and her mother come up and had began to cue up Emma's music.  
  
"You ready over there," he called.  
  
"I guess so," Emma replied, in a small voice.  
  
"It's on," Spiro called in turn.  
  
Just before the music started Emma heard her mother tell Legolas, "She's dancing to a song called 'Scarborough Fair.''  
  
With the beginning notes of the unearthly sounding song flittering through the studio, Emma began the dance. She found herself lost in the almost mystical rhythms of the old poem now turned to a song.  
  
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
  
Remember me to one who lives there  
  
He once was a true love of mine  
  
Tell him to make me a cambric shirt  
  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
  
Without no seams nor needlework  
  
Then he'll be a true love of mine  
  
Tell him to find me an acre of land  
  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
  
Between the salt water and the sea strand  
  
Then he'll be a true love of mine  
  
Tell him to reap it in a sickle of leather  
  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
  
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather  
  
Then he'll be a true love of mine  
  
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
  
Remember me to one who lives there  
  
He once was a true love of mine  
  
She ended by walking off the stage, head down as if she was deep in thought.  
  
The music had been turned off and Spiro had given her the "ok" to go home.  
  
"That was beautiful, pixie. I love that song," Shannon commented, "Now, go get changed, I have to talk to your brother for a few minutes."  
  
With a wave in Legolas's direction, Emma headed for the stairs, all the while wondering what the two of them were up to.  
  
"What were you two talking about?" Emma questioned as she and her mother walked home.  
  
"It a surprise, pixie, for the recital," Shannon replied with a smile.  
  
Emma sighed but decided not to press her mother further. She could wait out the two weeks until her recital. 


	35. Una Sorpresa

AN: I SAW IT! I saw Return of the King on Wednesday (yes, I'm mad enough to see it the day it opened)! I can not describe this movie for you. It's just beyond any words I can think of. It strays from the book but, like with all the other movies, I can forgive Peter Jackson. I might even go as far as saying that this movie is better than the book, and that's something you'd never, ever hear me say. If you're going to see it, bring tissues. Lots of them. My mom, who considers herself to be tough and doesn't cry at movies, was crying at the end. This movie had better bag lots of awards. It deserves to!  
  
Tini-angel: Thanks for the compliment! Like my character, I think Spiro (my ballet teacher on whom her ballet teacher is based) is the greatest ballet teacher on this earth. He may be mean and a diva but he's still great and you learn lots from him.  
  
Calm Serene: Thanks for both the review and the compliment!  
  
PixiePea000: I would but he has the flu so he wasn't in. You shall see what Shannon has up her sleeves. You know how moms are, they're good with surprises.  
  
Elainor: There's going to be some more dancing coming up soon and the surprise will be revealed shortly. Thanks for the compliment and the review! I appreciate it!   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
"I looked silly," Emma told her mother.  
  
Shannon shook her head and corrected, "Everyone looked silly, not just you."  
  
"But still," Emma grumped, taking her mom into the dressing room she shared with Fran and Laura.  
  
It was intermission, the night of the big recital. The first act had already come and gone, with Emma dancing in two tap dances and her private. The second act held three totally different dances. First was ballet---the dance she was getting ready for, changing out of a one piece, pin striped tap outfit and into her elven attire. Six minutes after the ballet finished was all the time she had to change into her blue, one piece acrobatics costume. Soon after that would come her jazz dance and the finale--- signaling the end of another recital and the end of her life on this earth.  
  
Just after the show, she and her parents were suppose to be heading home; back to her real home in Mirkwood. Of course, she wasn't quite sure how they were getting there but and she was sticking to it.  
  
"But that stupid wig made me look all weird. I'll bet dad couldn't even tell it was me," Emma groaned.  
  
Shannon knew all about the wig she was referring to. She had fought tooth and nail to stop them from making her daughter wear it but to no avail. Michelle, the giant cow she was, had forced the elven child to wear it. The wig was jaw line short and fire engine red in color. She had to wear it for the opening tap number of 42nd Street. It was suppose to help make the dance look and feel more authentic. In Emma's opinion, not that it mattered much in the studio; it made them all look like they were wearing small animals on their heads.  
  
She shrugged and dressed in her ballet costume with practiced ease. She, mentally, laughed, recalling the first time she had tried the costume on and how odd she initially felt dressing in such a manner. Now, it was second nature. Thin shirt tucked into breeches. Tunic over the shirt. Boot covers, supplementing the real thing since one couldn't dance in boots, hiding pink ballet slippers. Gauntlets on the wrists and a belt on top of the tunic. Of course, she had snuck her elven made necklace, the one she had received from her brother, on as well.  
  
"It wasn't so bad, pixie," Shannon assured Emma, putting the final touches on Emma's hair.  
  
It had gone from being in a tight braided but to totally loose.  
  
Shannon finished up, and repacked her bag.  
  
After giving Emma a kiss for luck, she said, "Be beautiful."  
  
She, cryptically, added, "By the way, wait here for a few minutes."  
  
Emma nodded and watched her mother leave. She was in the tiny dressing room all by herself. Laura and Fran had both gone off to baby-sit or otherwise brown nose.  
  
A tapping on one of the windows caught her attention, which had wandered towards the steps in the ballet. She peered out the window, taking note of a very familiar figure standing there.  
  
"No way," she thought, "There's absolutely no way."  
  
She pulled open the door of the dressing room that lead to the outside world. As soon as the figure stood in the door way, smiling down at Emma, she began to laugh.  
  
"What's so funny?" Legolas questioned, in a very confused voice.  
  
He had hoped that Emma would be surprised and pleased to see him.  
  
"Nothing. I'm just really surprised to see you. This was totally unexpected. Are you watching the show?" Emma replied.  
  
"Of course I am. You're mother was kind enough to invite me. She said it was only fair I get to see your last performance here, since I am your brother and all," Legolas explained.  
  
"So that was what my mom wanted to talk to you about. It makes sense now," Emma mused.  
  
Legolas watched his sister with a smile.  
  
"I must say, I much prefer what you call ballet to those other dances you performed. Not to say you were not excellent in them but they seem crude in a way," Legolas commented.  
  
"Tap's like that, especially hoofer tap. That's the tap with the flat shoes and the pants outfit," Emma explained.  
  
"And, I have to add, short hair and red hair do not fit on you," Legolas added.  
  
"You're telling me," Emma agreed, "it felt weird not to have this mop on the back of my neck."  
  
She ran a hand through her pin straight hair. The hair she, apparently, inherited from her biological mother.  
  
"This is far more fitting for you," Legolas said, gesturing towards Emma's current mode of dress.  
  
She nodded, agreeing. She was far more comfortable dressed like this.  
  
"Did you come alone?" Emma prompted.  
  
The length of the conversation her mother had with Legolas seemed far too long to discuss the buying and using of one ticket.  
  
Legolas shook his head, sly smile on his face.  
  
"I took the liberty of inviting the king and queen along with me. Your mother seemed most anxious to meet them and to have them watch you dance," Legolas replied.  
  
"You know Miss Michelle would have a fit if she knew that a king, queen, and prince were watching her recital. She'd think you were here to watch her. Then again, if she found out you were an elf, she'd still have a fit but not a good one," Emma, growing excited, commented.  
  
"You forget," Legolas corrected, "that there is a king, a queen, a prince, and a princess here. I think it would be far better if we kept the fact we are elves to ourselves. She need not know what has been dancing in her company all these years."  
  
Emma giggled happily. All the people she counted as friends or family had come to see her dance. The two talked for a few minutes more, until music began to fill the backstage area.  
  
"That's the intermission-is-almost-over music. Spiro's going to start looking for me. I have to get going," she said in a hurried voice.  
  
"You better go too. They might not let you back in," Emma added, ushering her brother out the door.  
  
Before shutting the door, the two exchanged quick hugs.  
  
With the door shut, Emma took off at a run for the right stage wing. Spiro would have her hide if she wasn't there before the first act started. 


	36. Li Spero Ballo

AN: HAPPY BELATED HOLIDAYS! I'm sorry for not updating in a very long time. Christmas and all of that stuff prevented me from getting near my typing stuff. Plus, I just realized that my sister is going to be home with me the entire month of January. She's being a pest and not leaving me along to type out my stuff. She'd rather have me type out chats for her and her silly friends. Any who, I hope everyone had a good holiday season! By the by, the Lord of the Rings book "Weapons and Warfare" is a very good read.  
  
elvenrocker: Actually, I am a Harry Potter fan and I know exactly what you're talking about. It's sort of a similar idea to that. They're dressed up in Muggle clothing but it's just for a short while.  
  
Chibi Chingo: Thanks for the review!  
  
GinnyPotter: Thanks! I'll try to keep updating. As long as I can duck my pesky sister.  
  
Sarah: Thanks! Here's a bit more!  
  
Kat: Oh wow, thanks very much. I'm glad you liked my little story and I really appreciate your review.  
  
Elainor: Here's a bit more! I'm glad you liked the way the chapter began. I can assure you nothing too bad is going to happen.  
  
littlesaiyangirl: I'm not really sure. Thanks for the compliment and the review, as always.  
  
Maethoriell Uini Tawar: I really am surprised that there are so many dancers and ex-dancers on this site. Thranduil has something up his sleeves but I'm not saying anything just yet.  
  
Hobbitgirl11: I don't think there's going to be any romance. I really don't know how to write romance related stories. Thanks for the review, as usual.  
  
Lindiel Eryn: Hi there! I haven't updated anything else because I've been working on this story. Since this story was written in school, it's pretty focused. I don't like my classmates knowing I write because none of them are fans of Lord of the Rings so they wouldn't get it. Patrick is kind of my excuse for how things in Middle Earth find there way out. This story spawned my other story, sort of. Thanks for the review!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
"Has anyone seen Emma?!" Spiro bellowed, peering over the heads of his gathered dancers.  
  
Like his dancers, the ballet teacher was overstressed and slightly more than grumpy. The extra stress was derived from the fact Michelle had placed a large group of new dancers in his class. He was forced to reformat the entire ballet to include all these new people. That meant countless hours of extra rehearsals, mostly after Friday night acrobatics, and more yelling than one thought was humanly possible.  
  
"I'm over here," Emma called, waving her arms so she could be seen over the crowd of young kids dressed in spangled tap costumes.  
  
"Let her pass," Spiro bellowed, causing one of the kids to burst into tears.  
  
The crowd, consisting of a "baby" tap class in their spangled tap costumes and over done make up, a preteen ballet class in blood red tutus, and a seven to eleven year old acrobatics class dressed as cheerleaders, mostly parted, allowing the elven clad ballerina through. She darted through the crowd and made her way to her own ballet class. Her class was the fourth class, following the acrobatics class, to take the stage in the second act.  
  
She reached her ballet class, giving them a bright smile. That would be the only smile she was going to be allowed to give the class. Spiro had forbidden them from smiling during the course of the dance. He said it was unprofessional.  
  
There was her class and the Junior class looking highly uncomfortable in their ballet costumes. People were adjusting wigs and wig pins, pulling on lengths of cloth that doubled for cloaks, or just moving around nervously. It was the ever popular and highly common pre-show jitters. Kim and Myra were both red eyed, indicating that they already had their little breakdowns.  
  
"Better now than during the acro fast change," Emma, mentally, mused.  
  
The breakdowns were well known within the dance studio. It was a yearly occurrence that saw the two dancers, sometimes together and sometimes at separate times, burst into tears for no real reason. Usually, Kim's would occur just before the acrobatics dance while Myra was known to burst into tears during the dance itself. That, in and of itself, was very dangerous in that while she was crying, she might miss a trick and hit someone else.  
  
The music for the first act had cued up and, sounding like a heard of angry horses, the "baby" tap class trooped on stage to sing "I Want to be Loved by You" and do their simple tap steps.  
  
The banging of tap shoes brought Emma back to the here and now. She looked up at Spiro, who seemed to be trying not to fidget in his own costume. At the class's request, the Greek ballet instructor was making a cameo appearance as a cave troll.  
  
He was dressed in heavy grey sweats, with big grey boots on his feet. Someone had even painted his face and hands dark grey. It was slightly difficult to picture him as a troll but it was a brave attempt.  
  
Behind Spiro stood a group of dancers that were, arguably, less popular than Emma. They were the cause of the extra rehearsals and the screamed lectures. Collectively, they were known as the "incidentals."  
  
They were the dancers who had either gotten hurt and were assumed to be absent from the dance or students who had just appeared out of thin air. Emma was well aware that Miss Michelle, despite her feverish denials, had forced Spiro to put these kids in his ballet and that this move had turned him into a rampaging lunatic.  
  
There was a chubby blond named Elaine, who had missed most of the year due to knee surgery, who was dressed as Elrond. A very, very tall dark skinned girl named Korina who was dressed in a poorly attempted balrog costume. She had just appeared at the beginning of June and was placed in the ballet. Two smaller girls, an Asian looking girl named Paula and a shorter, dumpier version of Danielle named Kathy-both were new additions to the class- were dressed as Galadriel and Celeborn. The final dancer, a curly headed Brazilian named Erica who had showed up with Korina, was dressed as Haldir.  
  
The baby tap music gave way to a poorly recorded "Fur Elise." The preteen ballet class had taken the stage.  
  
"Everyone to their wings," Spiro ordered, with warning in his voice.  
  
Each and every dancer, from the oldest student to the newest, knew that tone. If anyone even dared to make a mistake, it would be their heads next year.  
  
Following the rest of her ballet class, Emma made her way over to the stage left wings. There she attached her props to her costume and tried to recall her "new and improved" beginning steps.  
  
The classical ballet piece ended with a smattering of clapping from the audience. Ballets never went over big in the studio. The audience just didn't understand them.  
  
They did, however, understand the hip hop heavy acrobatics dance that had just taken the stage. Every trick from a forward roll to a handstand received thunderous applause.  
  
The acrobatics class seemed to be on stage for just a brief amount of time. Before Emma knew it, the stage had gone dark and she was being prompted by Andrea to get on stage.  
  
"Here goes nothing," Emma thought, as she pictured herself not remembering a single step or falling during a crucial moment in the dance.  
  
The dance was to start with the Council of Elrond scene and move forward from there. It covered most of the major points in the film's score and narrative.  
  
Emma took her place on the darkened stage, between Lauren and Kim, and scanned the shadowed audience.  
  
She found her parents, sitting in their usual row. Her father sat at the end of the row looking bored out of this wits but that was usually the case. He wasn't very interested in anything dance related. Next to him sat her mother. She looked excited, knowing that the ballet was forthcoming. She hadn't seen the final product, with the new dancers, yet.  
  
The three figures sitting after her nearly brought an unwanted smile to Emma's face. There sat her brother and his two friends. They looked highly uncomfortable in, what she and her mother considered, normal clothing. They sat staring at the stage in wide eyed wonder.  
  
Knowing that the group provided the biggest distraction, Emma shut them out of her mind. Instead, she focused on the music that had started up. She felt it invade every part of her and begin to sweep her away in its melodies. She didn't have to think about the steps she was give or where she was suppose to be. The music spoke and she listened. It gave her directions and she followed. It was as normal, as natural as breathing. It felt right. 


	37. Due Balli

AN: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! I'm having trouble updating. My reasons are two fold. First, I can not seem to convince my pest of a sister to leave me along long enough to type anything. She wants me to stay on her AOL name so I can write what she wants to say to her friends. (She's much too much of a princess to type things herself.) Second, my computer has gone all strange. I think I have it mostly sorted out now but, we'll see.  
  
elrohir lover: Thanks for the compliment!  
  
Hobbitgirl11: Thanks! Acrobatics is wicked fun! I use to take it but I stopped just after my younger sister (the pest) blew her knee out. One of the benefits of knowing acrobatics, though, is the fact you can do some of the really cool stuff done in action based movies.  
  
Lindiel Eryn: Yeah, little sisters can be very annoying. Dancers, on a whole, are not the most mentally stable people in the world. We all have our heads in the clouds someplace. The fact she's afraid of making mistakes is something every dancer has, especially if the real Spiro is your teacher. Thanks for the review as always!  
  
Sarah: LOL! There's some more dancing coming up!  
  
littlesaiyangirl: Thanks, as always! The night of the show is the most high stress night for any dancer and those two really do have breakdowns. I had the experience of watching them have their little episodes just before we went on stage.  
  
elvenrocker: Interesting thought, I never considered that! Let's see what I can do!  
  
Elainor: The show is usually just a few weeks after the costume rehearsals. Sorry, Arwen's daughter doesn't make an appearance. Let's just say, she's not the ballet type. Thanks for the review, as always!  
  
Saralitazie: It is Italian (a/k/a my second language). I'm going to translate everything from the title of the story to the chapter titles at the end of the story. I appreciate the review!  
  
*words*---indicates music used in a dance (Every song I use is the property of its singer. I don't own any of them.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
The ballet moved quickly unlike some of the ones done in years prior. The audience, for once, was actually interested in the dance and that was felt by those on stage. They were inspired to give more back to the audience. More emotion was poured into motion.  
  
When Spiro, dressed all in gray, came charging out from the front wing, the audience actually cheered. The din was so loud that the some of the dancers could not hear the music.  
  
Emma felt fear well up inside her and it was not because she could not hear the music.  
  
His entrance was her cue to run toward the charging ballet teacher so he could lift her up and drop her to the ground. The stunt had worked well within the confines of the studio but they had not tried it out at dress rehearsal the previous week. He wanted to save it for the show and make it a surprise.  
  
Pushing all fear from her mind---it was only another four letter word after all---she took four or five long runs and jumped with all her might.  
  
She felt Spiro catch her in mid-jump and lift her over his head. They two held that pose for what seemed like a lifetime and a half.  
  
"You ready?" he whispered to her.  
  
The sound would not have been audible to any other dancer but, with her sensitive ears, Emma was able to pick up on the whispered question.  
  
"I guess," came her whispered reply.  
  
The dance teacher took a deep breath and threw Emma in the air. She was falling and she knew she was going to hit the ground. It would hurt if she did not land just right. The ground grew closer and close, the numbers on the stage floor growing larger with every passing second. The audience watched with baited breath.  
  
All of a sudden, she tucked herself into a tiny ball and hit the ground rolling. When she got to her feet, taking off into a grade jete, the audience roared.  
  
The rest of the ballet passed in a blur of motions, of entrances and exits, and of mimed battles.  
  
It ended with Kim, Lauren, and Emma running off into the wings, pretending to chase after the captured Merry and Pippin.  
  
In truth, the trio ran toward a set of chairs set up in the wings. They had the fastest of fast changes, going from ballet to acrobatics.  
  
Emma ran to her chair, the last one in the line, and began to shuck off her ballet costume and change into her acrobatics outfit.  
  
"I help you, yes?" asked the girl who had been assigned to helping her change from one costume to the next.  
  
"No, no, you don't have to help me," Emma called, "I can do it myself."  
  
The girl backed off with a smile and went to go help Kim, who, by the looks of things, was having another breakdown. She was shouting orders to the three or four girls who were helping her change.  
  
Emma raced, pulling her one piece blue jumpsuit on her person and vividly blue acrobatics slippers on her feet. Her hair was suppose to be up but, give the time constraints, all she was able to do was pull it into a very messy ponytail. She would just have to make sure not to step on it during the course of the dance.  
  
With two minutes to spare, plenty of time considering, Emma stood in the wings again.  
  
The theme of the acrobatics dance was "Charlie's Angels" and used music from the film. She did not understand how the music and theme pertained to the costume but this was neither the time nor the place to consider that.  
  
The stage had lapsed into darkness again.  
  
"Get out there," hissed Kim, her voice rough.  
  
Emma trotted out onto the darkened stage again, taking her mark between Lauren and Melissa. The trio assumed what she was told was a traditional pose from the original "Charlie's Angel" series. She did not know if Kim was telling the truth, having never seen the series herself. The movie hadn't interested her either and, as such, she'd never seen it.  
  
Ignoring the fact she was standing right in front of her family and her brother's friends, Emma readied herself for the high impact dance. Without a clear head, she was going to make a mistake. Unlike the ballet, where one mistake had a very slim chance of hurting someone else, if she were to make a mistake her, the odds were very good that she was going to hurt someone else in the process. A misplaced kick up before a handstand and someone could wind up with a broken nose or worse!  
  
A spotlight roved over the confines of the stage, stopping for the briefest of moments on this dancer or that dancer before moving on to someone else. All this was done to the original theme song of the television show.  
  
"Tug of war," Emma thought, grabbing her left leg with her left arm and pulling it up to her side.  
  
As the two dancers on either side of her changed pose, she changed as well.  
  
Reaching her right arm behind her head, she pulled her right leg up. Using her left hand, she pulled the leg up further to touch her head. The pose was uncomfortable as it sounded and her left leg began to shake slightly.  
  
"Stop, please stop," she mentally admonished her limb.  
  
She willed her leg to stop its senseless shaking. Turning all her energy towards the rebelling limb, she tried to force it to stop. She'd done this step a thousand, a million, times before and she'd never fallen. She was not about to start now.  
  
Her leg stopped shaking, much to her relief.  
  
Moments later, she turned and ran offstage, lining up behind Lauren for the triple person, one handed cartwheel that would take them back on stage.  
  
As she prepared, the music changed again. This time it turned into a song called "Independent Women."  
  
*Lucy Liu... with my girl, Drew... Cameron D. and Destiny  
  
Charlie's Angels, Come on  
  
Uh uh uh*  
  
"One, two, three, cheat," Lauren whispered to the dancers behind her as they took the stage.  
  
The order to cheat, for the dancers behind to break their hold on each other's hips and put their arm down to complete a two handed cartwheel, had been used since Melissa was unable to do one handed cartwheels.  
  
Emma ignored the order to a degree. She took her hand off of Lauren's hip but still did a one handed cartwheel.  
  
A partner trick, involving her cartwheeling on Lauren's legs, later and Emma was standing in the wings again.  
  
The music was in the process of changing again, leading into a song called "Barracuda" by some old band called Heart.  
  
Taking a stage with a bounding run, Emma gave herself over to the old pop sounds that filled the theater.  
  
*So this ain't the end  
  
I saw you again  
  
Today  
  
I had to turn my heart away  
  
Smile like the sun  
  
Kisses for everyone  
  
And tales  
  
It never fails  
  
You lying so low in the weeds  
  
I bet you gonna ambush me  
  
You'd have me down, down, down, down on my knees  
  
Now wouldn't you?  
  
Barracuda*  
  
Emma was sitting on her knees facing the back wall of the stage. Her shoulder was aching from the trick she had just performed. It was a roll called a "fish flop" and involved rolling backwards and coming to rest on one shoulder.  
  
"Pain, another four letter word," Emma mused, fighting the urge to just rub her shoulder.  
  
She knew that it was very unprofessional to reach up one hand and rub her shoulder. All her years of dancing had drummed that ideal into her. When on stage, you only moved when it was part of the dance. There was not brushing hair out of your face or rubbing a sore limb.  
  
Her dwelling did not last all that long, though. The music was fading into the next piece, a piece was that was slightly less high impact that the one prior.  
  
She sprang to her feet as the opening notes of the song "Heaven Must be Missin' an Angel" filled the theater.  
  
*Heaven must be missin' an angel  
  
Missin' one angel, child, 'cause you're here with me right now  
  
Your love is heavenly, baby  
  
Heavenly to me, baby*  
  
The piece had the audience laughing. Many knew the song, much to the surprise of everyone on stage. The dancers had just gone from high impact acrobats, performing tricks many figured were impossible without the aid of a Hollywood stunt team, to cutesy little dancers.  
  
"Step, both arms up, step, right L shape, step, both arms up, step, left L shape, step, both arms down," Emma reminded herself, allowing a "dancer's rush" to dull the pain in her shoulder.  
  
As long as she was dancing, the energy from the gathered crowd was keeping her from noticing the pain in her shoulder. Once she got off stage, however, it would be a different story. She was hoping that it wasn't going to cramp up before the jazz dance.  
  
She walked offstage, after getting up from a straddle leap that landed her between Lauren and Kim, listening to the music change once again. They were heading toward the lyrical part of the dance, a part she was glad she only had a minimal part in.  
  
This year's lyrical acrobatics piece was to, yet another, old song. This time the piece of choice was a song called "True."  
  
*So true funny how it seems always in time, but never in line for dreams head over heels, when toe to toe this is the sound of my soul this is the sound I bought a ticket to the world but now I've come back again why do I find it hard to write the next line when I want the truth to be said I know this much is true*  
  
"Ready over there?" questioned Lauren.  
  
The dark skinned dancer was holding a wooden ladder in her hands and looking at her smaller counter part.  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be," Emma responded, just before the duo made their entrance on the line "but then I come back again."  
  
It was the only way she could remember when her entrance was.  
  
The lyrical section ended without flourish. All energy was now focused on the finale of the acrobatics dance. This was the time to impress the audience, to show they what skills every acrobat truly possessed.  
  
To the driving beats of a techno version of the "Charlie's Angels" theme song, the acrobats took the stage one at a time. Each had been given two counts to take the stage alone and show what she was best at.  
  
Emma stood in the wings, bouncing from foot to foot. She was to follow Lauren in the sequence of individual tricks.  
  
As Lauren ran off, Emma ran on. She took the stage in a few runs, diving into a cartwheel. From there, she went into a handstand and held it for quite sometime.  
  
Over she fell into a backbend and, pulling herself up, she performed a back handspring.  
  
The audience cheered, the sound deafening to the elven child's sensitive ears. She ran off stage with a smile on her face.  
  
The dance ended as it began, on a darkened stage with acrobats in groups of three.  
  
Tired, breathless, and worn out Emma darted back to her dressing room. There was still a jazz dance to do.  
  
In the back of her head, she was well aware of the fact that her time here had grown short. The countdown was on. Middle Earth was calling. 


	38. Ultimo Ballo

AN: I know I've been a very delinquent author but I have a good excuse. For the past week or so, my mom and I have been trying to convince the local Girl Scout Council to hand over our troop's cookie sheets. It seems the troop I volunteer for was "forgotten" somehow and, as such, never received our material. Now my troop has a week to sell cookies and I have irate parents after me because they claim this is all my mother's fault (my mom runs the troop). Any who, this is it-----the next to the last chapter. There's just one more after this but there is a semi-sequel/spin-off already written. I hope you all join me on that adventure.  
  
elrohir lover: THANKS!  
  
lilja Ithilwen: Thanks for both the review and the compliment. I'm glad you like my story and there are a few surprises left in store.  
  
elvenrocker: As always, thanks for the review. You shall soon see how things work out in Middle Earth. They're heading home soon.  
  
PixiePea000: The one thing I don't miss about acro are those blasted fast changes. Well, the fast changes and certain people in the class. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith!  
  
Saralitazie: Thanks for the review and the compliment. I have my Gollum moments too. Actually, my mother and some other people I know call me Gollum for some odd reason.  
  
orlandofan13: I use to do Tae Kwan Do in high school and it's kind of like dancing! My instructor use to call me the "dancer" or the "ballerina" whenever I had to spar him. I'm glad you like my story!  
  
elentir girl: Thanks! I would have updated sooner but I had an adventure in Girl Scout politics. You'd think the parents would leave me alone---I'm in charge of the really little kids who don't sell cookies.  
  
Lindiel Eryn: Thanks for the review, as usual. The jazz is truly the last dace for both Emma and the show in general. Thranduil has something up his sleeve but that's for later.  
  
littlesaiyangirl: As always, THANKS! This acro dance was kind of fun when we did it. Well it was fun for me but not for my sister. She performed this dance with a messed up knee.  
  
Elainor: Thanks for the review!  
  
*words*--- something being sung (Well, in this case, music that they're dancing to. I don't own any of the songs, as usual.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Emma met her mother in the dressing room.  
  
"Very impressive, pixie," her mother stated, as she handed Emma the bag containing her jazz costume.  
  
"Thanks mom. Did you really like it?" she questioned, pulling off her acro shoes and unzipping the bag containing the jazz costume.  
  
The theme of the jazz dance, though like the acro the theme had nothing to do with the music, was a military-type dance. The costume reflected the theme. It consisted of a skin colored, short sleeved body suit over which tight fitting camouflaged pants and a small jacked that tied in the front. Her hair was pulled into a very long ponytail that started at high on her head.  
  
"It was really wonderful. The audience is still buzzing about that and your acrobatics dance. Your brother's friend wasn't crazy with the way he was portrayed but he did say you did very well," Shannon replied.  
  
As Emma pulled her body suit on under her "naked" shirt, a flesh colored, tight fitting tank top most dancers wore underneath their costumes. It was a useful item to wear, especially during very fast changes when there might be male stage hands standing in the wings, Shannon noticed something was amiss.  
  
"Pixie, what happened to your shoulder?" she half questioned, half exclaimed.  
  
Covering Emma's shoulder was a massive bruise. It was red of around the borders and faded into a vile purple color toward the center. It looked as painful as it felt.  
  
"I got a bruise," Emma answered, wincing slightly as she pulled her body suit on, "a combination of Spiro's toss and that stupid fish flop from acro. It's fine. It doesn't hurt too much."  
  
Shannon just shook her head and started tying Emma's hair into a ponytail.  
  
"Can you, please, try to be careful out there during jazz?" Shannon beseeched her daughter, as she fixed Emma's make-up.  
  
"I'm going to be very careful. I don't want to get really hurt before going home," Emma replied with an excited smile.  
  
The prospect of going home, back to Middle Earth, was keeping her going and keeping a smile on her face.  
  
"I know your excited about that, pixie, but don't let it make you be sloppy. I'm sure your brother wants to see you home in one piece," Shannon said, kissing Emma for luck and leaving the dressing room with a wave.  
  
The elven child wandered around the backstage area, looking for somewhere to be before her dance started. She was supposed to be babysitting but Fran and Laura looked like that had that under control.  
  
Spotting another camouflaged figure darting toward the wings, Emma took off at a run. It appeared that the jazz dance was going to start soon and it would be her head if she missed it.  
  
"Is everyone here?" Spiro called, counting the heads of the dancers that surrounded him.  
  
"I think they are," crowed Michelle, clad in an all too tight jazz costume, "We should take the stage."  
  
Spiro took another head count, having the feeling that someone was missing.  
  
"Where's Emma? Again, we lost that kid," he commented.  
  
"Behind you," Emma stated.  
  
She had gotten to the wings well before the rest of her class and had been standing there for quite sometime. It was just that they had overlooked her being there, which wasn't unusual. It was something she was not going to miss.  
  
The Greek dance instructor ushered Emma into the crowd of dancers in front of him.  
  
"The ballet was good girls. There were a few slip-ups but it was acceptably good," Spiro informed his class.  
  
That was about as close to a compliment as one was going to get from Spiro. He never said you were "great" or "wonderful." There were just varying shades of "good" and "acceptable."  
  
"You were good, too, Spiro," Kim pointed out, speaking on behalf of the rest of her class.  
  
A slight pink tinge appeared on the cheeks of the ballet teacher.  
  
"Credit given to my human cannonball," he said, referring to Emma, "Get hurt too badly?"  
  
Emma shook her head, silvery-white ponytail whipping around her head and nearly hitting Andrea in the face.  
  
"I'm fine. I didn't get hurt too badly at all," she lied.  
  
She had never been keen on admitting to the other dancers that she was hurt in any way, shape, or form.  
  
"Good," Spiro said, firmly, "Let's take the stage."  
  
They took the stage in yet another blackout. It was a common enough method of starting a dance, especially for the older classes. There was just something impressive about dancers appearing on a darkened stage.  
  
Emma scrambled to her number on the back row of numbers and waited for the music to begin.  
  
The dance began with a military cadence, done in two groups. Each group moved up and down the stage with careful precision. Lines crossed and formations melded into one another, giving the dance an overall militaristic feel.  
  
The first part of the dance ended with the entire class standing along the front line, doubled over with hands on knees.  
  
The music changed from a militaristic sounding beat to more modern, pop music.  
  
Because of his obsession, Spiro had chosen Michael Jackson's "Rock My World" as the first pop song.  
  
"Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it," Emma thought as one song slid cleanly into the next.  
  
She was the very last person to move in Spiro's infamous cannons and she had to keep careful count, lest she miss her cue.  
  
*Oooh,  
  
Oooh,  
  
My life will never be the same  
  
Cause girl you came and changed  
  
The way I walk, the way I talk  
  
Now I cannot explain  
  
These things I feel for you  
  
But girl you know it's true  
  
So stay with me, fulfill my dreams  
  
I'll be all you need  
  
Ooh it feels so right  
  
I've searched for the perfect love all my life  
  
Ooh it feels like  
  
I have finally found a perfect love this time  
  
You rocked my world, you know you did  
  
And everything I own I give  
  
The rarest love, who'd think I'd find  
  
Someone like you to call mine  
  
You rocked my world, you know you did  
  
And everything I own I give  
  
The rarest love, who'd think I'd find  
  
Someone like you to call mine*  
  
The steps involved in the dance took them off the stage and back on again at two different times. There were several more grouped formations and cannons in this piece. It was Spiro's way of impressing the audience with his skill.  
  
"Catch your breath, this next part is rough," Emma mused as she moved into her proper place in yet another formation.  
  
This part of the dance was easy, compared to the several parts that were coming up. The rest of the dace was high energy, high impact, meant to shock the audience right out of their seats.  
  
The final beats of "Rock My World" faded into the opening strains of Alien Ant Farm's remix of "Smooth Criminal."  
  
*As he came into the window  
  
Was a sound of a crescendo  
  
He came into her apartment  
  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet  
  
She was sitting at the table  
  
He could see she was unable  
  
So she ran into the bedroom  
  
She was struck down  
  
It was her doom  
  
Annie, are you OK  
  
Are you OK  
  
Are you OK, Annie  
  
Annie, are you OK  
  
You OK  
  
Are you OK, Annie  
  
Annie, are you OK  
  
You OK  
  
You OK, Annie  
  
Annie, are you OK  
  
You OK  
  
Are you OK, Annie  
  
Annie, are you OK  
  
Will you tell us that you're OK  
  
There's a sign at the window  
  
That he struck you  
  
A crescendo, Annie  
  
He came into your apartment  
  
He left the bloodstains on the carpet  
  
Then you ran into the bedroom  
  
You were struck down  
  
It was your doom*  
  
From the first jump out, the dance was nonstop motion. Every count, every beat, was filled in with something.  
  
"Kick, fall to the floor, roll, that hurt," Emma remembered, the pain in her shoulder interrupting her train of thought.  
  
A quick look around her indicated that she had not missed anything, not messed up on any step.  
  
With a running split leap, taking her off the stage, the music began to change again.  
  
The other jazz class, the Cathettes I consisting of Lauren, Melissa, Danielle, Kathy, Korina, and Erica with a special appearance by Andrea, was taking the stage.  
  
Their short section allowed Emma and her class to catch their breath and prepare, mentally and physically, for the rest of the dance.  
  
The Cathettes I walked out on stage as the music changed to Ricky Martin's "She Bangs."  
  
*Talk to me  
  
Tell me your name  
  
You blow me off like it's all the same  
  
You lit a fuse and now I'm ticking away  
  
Like a bomb  
  
Yeah, Baby  
  
Talk to me  
  
Tell me your sign  
  
You're switching sides like a Gemini  
  
You're playing games and now you're hittin' my heart  
  
Like a drum  
  
Yeah, Baby  
  
Well if Lady Luck gets on my side  
  
We're gonna rock this town alive  
  
I'll let her rough me up  
  
Till she knocks me out  
  
She walks like she talks,  
  
And she talks like she walks  
  
And she bangs, she bangs  
  
Oh baby  
  
When she moves, she moves  
  
I go crazy  
  
'Cause she looks like a flower but she stings  
  
like a bee  
  
Like every girl in history  
  
She bangs, she bangs*  
  
Rosemarie ran off stage, nearly knocking Emma over as she did so.  
  
"Ready, ladies?" Michelle called, in a sickly sweet voice.  
  
Three big steps took Emma, who was being allowed to lead the dancers out, onto the stage as the music changed, yet again.  
  
With an embarrassed grin on her face---she had always felt silly doing this part of the dance---Emma began to prowl out to "I'm a Slave For You."  
  
*I Know I may be young but I've got feelings too  
  
and I need to do what I feel like doing  
  
so let me go and just listen  
  
All you people look at me like I m a little girl  
  
Well did you ever think it'd be ok for me to step into this world?  
  
Always saying little girl don't step into the club  
  
Well I'm just tryin' to find out why cause dancing is what i love, yeah  
  
Get it, Get it, Get it Whoa  
  
Get it, Get it, Get it Whoa  
  
Get it, Get it, Get it Whoa  
  
I know I may come off quiet  
  
I may come off shy  
  
But I feel like talkin, Feel like dancin' when I see this guy  
  
What's practical, what's logical, what the hell who cares  
  
All I know is I'm so happy when you're dancing there  
  
I'm a slave for you  
  
I can nearly hold it, I cannot control it  
  
I'm a slave for you  
  
I won't deny it I m not trying to hide it*  
  
The dance was suppose to show the audience how mature the dancers in the class were, that they were capable handling more adult orientated dancing. Emma, however, felt incredibly silly and immature doing it. She liked jazz, sometimes more than she liked tap, but she felt very awkward doing it. It was too unlike ballet for her comfort.  
  
The dance ended with her facing Melissa, on her knees hands on her head. The music changed on final time.  
  
In an ironic twist of fate, the very last song of the show, the song being used for the finale was "Last Dance."  
  
"This is my last dance here," Emma mused, as she allowed Melissa to pull her up off the floor as the music changed.  
  
*Last dance  
  
Last chance, for love  
  
Yes, it's my last chance, for romance, tonight  
  
I need you, by me,  
  
Beside me, to guide me,  
  
To hold me, to scold me,  
  
'Cause when I'm bad  
  
I'm so' so bad  
  
So let's dance, the last dance  
  
Let's dance, the last dance  
  
Let's dance, this last dance tonight  
  
Last dance, last chance for love  
  
Yes it's my last chance  
  
For romance tonight  
  
Oh, I need you, by me,  
  
Beside me, to guide,  
  
To hold me, to scold me,  
  
'Cause when I'm bad  
  
I'm so, so bad  
  
So let's dance, the last dance  
  
Let's dance, the last dance  
  
Let's dance, this last dance tonight  
  
Yeah, will you be my Mr. Right?  
  
Can you fill my appetite  
  
I can't be sure that you're the one for me  
  
But all that I ask is that you dance with me  
  
Dance with me, Dance with me, yeah  
  
Oh I need you, by me,  
  
Beside me, to guide me,  
  
to hold me, to scold me,  
  
'Cause when I'm bad  
  
I'm so, so bad  
  
So let's dance, this last dance  
  
Let's dance, this last dance  
  
Let's dance' this last dance tonight  
  
Oh I need you, by me,  
  
Beside me, to guide me,  
  
To hold me, to scold me,  
  
'Cause when I'm bad  
  
I'm so, so bad  
  
So, come on baby, dance that dance  
  
Come on baby, dance that dance  
  
Come on baby, let's dance tonight*  
  
People filed out of the theater, talking about another great show and how they couldn't wait until next year.  
  
Another figure, ran out of the backstage area. This figure was excited that she wasn't going to be here next year.  
  
Next year, she would be home where she belonged. There would be no more hiding that she really was. She was going to be home, among her own kind.  
  
Emma ran into her mother's waiting arms, costume and trophy in hand.  
  
"Are we going now?" she asked her mother.  
  
"In a moment," Shannon said, handing Emma off to her brother.  
  
"I did not know you could dance like that, little elf," Legolas commented, sounding slightly shocked.  
  
He, like Aragorn and Arwen, were wide eyed and confused looking.  
  
"Like how?" Emma asked, sounding confused as her brother looked.  
  
"All of that shaking. I did not expect that from you," Legolas pointed out, referring to the jazz dance.  
  
Dancing like that was not seen within the confines of Mirkwood.  
  
Emma laughed, brightly, and looked to her father. He had yet to say anything about the show.  
  
"You were beautiful, as usual," he, finally, said with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Are we ready to cross?" Aragorn asked, speaking for the first time.  
  
"The gate awaits," Arwen added, pointing to a shining spot growing in a near-by tree.  
  
Patrick, the portal opening wizard, had left a half opened portal for their use. It would seal shut once Emma and her friends and family had gone through.  
  
Mitchell looked to Shannon who looked to Emma.  
  
"We are," Emma said, a smile a mile wide on her face.  
  
Carefully, ever so carefully, the group walked toward the tree and stepped though. With a final glance at the world, Emma stepped through going home. This time, she was going home to stay. 


	39. L'Estremita

AN: This is it! This is the end! It's been really fun, everyone. I appreciate all your comments and I hope you had fun on my little ride. I hope lots of you stick around for the next part of this story. Again, you all rock and made typing this story out extremely worthwhile! As I promised the translations to the chapters and stuff will be at the end of this update!  
  
elentir girl: I'm glad you liked it! Here's the next chapter!  
  
elrohir lover: Thanks! Again, I appreciate your review!  
  
pixie88: Thank you for your review. Reviews make typing this story up worth it. I'm glad you liked my little story.  
  
Hobbitgirl11: I found out my costumes/music a while back. In jazz, we're doing pop music from the 90's and wearing this one piece, gray-silver jumpsuit. It was suppose to be red but that didn't happen. For one ballet, we're doing Beethoven's 5th Symphony and wearing black tutus with a few layers of purple tulle and purple flowers on the body suit. For my private, I'm dancing to "Scarborough Fair" and the costume is basically the same one Emma uses when she dances to that song. For one tap, we're doing a tribute to Gregory Hines and wearing this red and black pin stripped suit and tie. For this other tap dance, we're doing a tribute to Celia Cruz and wearing this costume that is too ugly for words. I'm glad you liked my story!  
  
Elleiadrieal: Thanks for your reviews and the sequel will be up once school starts again!  
  
Saralitazie: Thanks! I'm glad you liked this story so much!  
  
orlandofan13: What can I say; I'm a sucker for the happy ending. I like it when stories end on a good note (with the exception of The Matrix Trilogy, I like the way that trilogy ends.)  
  
Lindiel Eryn: As always, I appreciate your review! Thranduil's plan will be revealed in time. By the by, have you read any of the New Jedi Order books?  
  
Elvenrocker: Sorry about the music overkill. I promise that's not going to happen as much anymore. Thanks for your review, as usual!  
  
Kerla: Thanks! I'm glad you liked this story!  
  
PixiePea000: Between computer demons and other things, I'm finally updating. I was going to write that but there are just no words I could think of to express that part of the show. By the way, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith (though I could get a certain bunch of Matrix characters to keep an eye on him for you).  
  
kurleyhawk2: Thanks! I appreciate it!  
  
Elainor: Jazz does that to people! As always, thanks!   
  
*words*---indicate something being sung (As usual, the song isn't mine!)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.  
  
Several weeks had passed since Emma's arrival in Mirkwood. She had started her lessons, like all good little elflings did, and was getting along quite well considering it was material she had never even considered real. The only thing missing from her day-to-day routine was dance. It was the only thing she truly missed.  
  
"Where are we going?" Emma questioned, as she trotted behind her brother.   
  
She had been excused from her lessons early, on request of the prince. Now she followed her older brother through the caverns of Mirkwood. He would not say where they were going, only that it was a surprise he knew Emma was going to enjoy.   
  
They had walked for what seemed like an age when they finally came to their destination.   
  
It was one of the vast courtyards, this one just below the king's private study.   
  
Gathered in the courtyard were several elves, all dressed alike. Each wore tight fitting leggings gray and, what looked to Emma to be, some type of gray bodysuit. All had leather slippers on their feet and their hair tied back away from their faces.   
  
It looked to Emma like this might have been a dance class of some kind.   
  
"My prince, what brings you out here today?" questioned one of the figures, dropping into a formal curtsey.   
  
"Lady Aralle, this is the child I was discussing. The dancer," Legolas told the elf, gesturing for her to rise from her curtsey.   
  
Elven eyes scanned the tunic and breeches clad child. "This is your sister, then?" questioned Aralle.   
  
"Aye that she is. I know it is late in your work but I would like you to consider allowing Emma to dance with your esteemed band," Legolas requested.   
  
"You dance, child?" Aralle asked, indicating that Emma should answer her question.   
  
"I do, ma'am. Well, I use to dance when I lived outside of Middle Earth," Emma admitted, in a small voice.   
  
"And, do you dance well?" Aralle posed.   
  
Emma shrugged, halfheartedly. She had never been all that confident with her dancing abilities. It came from the people she danced with. They had been keen on making sure to run her abilities down as often as they could.   
  
"She is a very good dancer, my lady. Perhaps you would like a demonstration?" Legolas answered for his sister.   
  
"I think a demonstration is in order. It is not that I am disagreeing with your words, my prince. It is just that I only accept the most skilled dancers from all the groups below my own," Aralle commented.   
  
"I understand, my lady. Allow me but a moment to discuss with my sister," Legolas requested.   
  
Aralle backed away, rejoining her fellow dancers.   
  
"What am I suppose to be doing?" Emma questioned, her brother.   
  
"These are elven dancers, Emma. I know you miss dancing very much and I hoped that they would allow you to dance with them. Aralle wants just a simple demonstration of your skill as a dancer. Unless you prefer being given a position in this group on the basis of your own position as princess," Legolas explained.   
  
Emma thought for a moment, considering her options. She wanted to dance, in the very worst way. It was the only thing she missed about her life in the other world.   
  
"I would not want that to happen," she said, "I would like to earn a position in this group."   
  
"As I knew you would," Legolas commented, "Now, can you furnish Aralle with one of your dances?"   
  
After a moment's thought, Emma nodded. She had decided to go with the first dance that popped into her head. It was not a dance she had performed in any show of any kind. It was simply a combination Spiro had taught them to pass the time. There were no fancy costumes associated with this combination---all they had worn were black bodysuits, black stockings, black shorts, and, of course, pink ballet slippers.   
  
Why this combination, out of the many dances she knew, had decided to appear now was beyond her. It was just something she wanted to do.   
  
"Has the princess decided to dance?" Aralle questioned, coming back over to Legolas and Emma.   
  
"I have, ma'am," she said, "I would like to earn a position within the ranks of this group."   
  
The older elven maiden barked an order in her native tongue. The other dancers stepped away from the middle of the courtyard, leaving a vast expanse of room in which Emma could dance.   
  
She took to the center of the room, standing in the very familiar "B+" position, and allowing her mind to creep back to when she had first learned the combination.   
  
*Spend all your time waiting  
  
for that second chance  
  
for a break that would make it okay  
  
there's always some reason  
  
to feel not good enough  
  
and it's hard at the end of the day  
  
I need some distraction  
  
oh beautiful release  
  
memories seep from my veins  
  
let me be empty  
  
oh and weightless then maybe  
  
I'll find some peace tonight  
  
In the arms of the angel  
  
fly away from here  
  
from this dark cold hotel room  
  
and the endlessness that you feel  
  
you are pulled from the wreckage  
  
of your silent reverie  
  
you're in the arms of the angel  
  
may you find some comfort here  
  
So tired of the straight line  
  
and everywhere you turn  
  
there's vultures and thieves at your back  
  
the storm keeps on twisting  
  
you keep on building the lies  
  
that you make up for all that you lack  
  
it don't make no difference  
  
escaping one last time  
  
it's easier to believe  
  
in this sweet madness oh  
  
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees  
  
In the arms of the angel  
  
fly away from here  
  
from this dark cold hotel room  
  
and the endlessness that you feel  
  
you are pulled from the wreckage  
  
of your silent reverie  
  
you're in the arms of the angel  
  
may you find some comfort here  
  
you're in the arms of the angel  
  
may you find some comfort here*   
  
The dance was what they referred to as a lyrical ballet, actions matching the words sung. Lyrical dances required more emotion than anything else as much of what you felt needed to be expressed within the course of the dance. They were not a popular show form of dance, due to the fact they were less flashy and spectacular, but were an interesting form to learn.   
  
The dance ended with Emma resting on floor, as if asleep seeking comfort from angelic beings.   
  
She stood, dusting her tunic off.   
  
"Was that acceptable, ma'am?" she questioned, sounding concerned and hoping the elven maiden understood the nature of that type of dance.   
  
"You have some skill for someone so very young. Your teachers must have been very skilled, indeed. I would enjoy having you dance with me and my fellows," Aralle told the child.   
  
A smile broke out on Emma's face. She was going to be allowed to dance once again.   
  
"I leave my sister in your care, Aralle. It seems my father would like to speak with me," Legolas said to the instructor.   
  
A page stood at the prince's side, eager to to leave the courtyard and return to Thranduil.   
  
Aralle sketched a bow and lead Emma off to be introduced to the rest of the dancers. There was much work to be done, a dance to be changed, and a new part to be added.   
  
"Father, you wished to speak with me," Legolas said, when he reached his father's private study.   
  
Instead of finding his father sitting behind the desk, working to keep the whole of Mirkwood safe, he found Thranduil standing, staring out the window.   
  
At the king's side stood a dark haired minor lord. The two appeared to be deep in conversation.   
  
"My son," Thranduil said, "I was just pointing out that child to Lord Narmotur. He came to me looking for a wife to sail west with."   
  
Legolas looked a bit confused, unsure of what his sister had to do with a minor lord looking to wed and to sail west.   
  
"I will take my leave, my lord," Narmotur said, bowing his way out of the room.   
  
"I do believe I have found an acceptable wife for him. He would like to move up in status, someday," Thranduil pointed out, sitting down in his chair and indicating that his son should take the seat across from him.  
  
Legolas lowered himself into the chair, watching his father with a careful eye. Since Emma arrived in Middle Earth, he had become far more devious that he had ever though possible. The elven lord was planning something but he had yet to discern what that something was.   
  
Shrugging off his feelings, the price asked, "What would like to talk to me about?"   
  
"You have been summoned to the White City," Thranduil commented, "Take the little brat and her parents and head out to Minas Tirith as soon as possible."   
  
"Why have we been summoned?" Legolas questioned.   
  
"The summons did not state," Thranduil said, finality in his voice.   
  
"I will figure out what you are planning, father, know that fact," Legolas whispered, as the laughter of an elven child filled the room from the courtyard below.  
  
AN: Here are the translations as promised!  
  
Il Ballerina Piccolo---The Little Ballerina  
  
CH 1---To Find a Baby (girl)  
  
CH 2---We Go to the School of Dance  
  
CH 3---The School of Dance  
  
CH 4---The Meeting  
  
CH 5---Truth  
  
CH 6---To Think  
  
CH 7---The Meeting Again  
  
CH 8--- To Talk  
  
CH 9--- The Costumes  
  
CH 10--- The Revelation  
  
CH 11--- The Parents  
  
CH 12--- To Give a Gift  
  
CH 13--- The Mother  
  
CH 14--- The Package  
  
CH 15--- The Halls of the King  
  
CH 16--- The Father and the Son  
  
CH 17--- To Make (the) Preparations  
  
CH 18--- To Stretch  
  
CH 19--- The Golden Woods  
  
CH 20--- The Mirror  
  
CH 21--- The Reactions  
  
CH 22--- Taking of Dance  
  
CH 23--- The High King  
  
CH 24--- The High King, the Queen, the Prince and the Princess  
  
CH 25--- It Says to a History (literal translation)  
  
CH 26--- Interlude  
  
CH 27--- To Attack and to Leave  
  
CH 28--- To Break the News  
  
CH 29--- The Father, the Son, and the Daughter  
  
CH 30--- (the) Blood and (the) Water  
  
CH 31--- To Go Home  
  
CH 32--- To Dance Poorly  
  
CH 33--- The Seat of the Heart  
  
CH 34--- To Dance  
  
CH 35--- A Surprise  
  
CH 36--- I Hope You Dance  
  
CH 37--- Two Dances  
  
CH 38--- The Final Dance  
  
CH 39--- The End 


End file.
